So Close
by Laura Dugan
Summary: They are "so close to reaching that famous happy ending..." but many obstacles stand in their way. A Booth/Brennan fic. The M stuff is now posted!
1. Almost believing this was not pretend

A/N: Yeah, I know it's been forever since I last wrote a story, and this one is slow coming, so don't expect super frequent updates! I know, I know, I'm so kind. :) A huge thank you and many hugs to Carrie (a fantastic fellow Bones author – vadergirl52), my super-editor, who is keeping this story going and providing lots of fantastic feedback and story advice. It's really half her story…

General spoilers for Pain in the Heart. This is an M to be safe… Though right now it's more of a T. The story title is from the song "So Close" from the movie _Enchanted._ I love that movie. Each chapter title is a lyric from the song.

Required disclaimer: I own none of it.

* * *

Almost believing this was not pretending

It had begun so innocently. Sharing the acceptance letter Zack had saved all those years. Leaning his head against hers, counting on their closeness, both physically and emotionally, to help ease the pain. After a few moments, he pulled back and looked at her, saw the uncertainty in her eyes, the worry, the loss, the pain, and wanted to make it all go away. Wanted to relieve the clenching of his own heart.

He ran his fingers through her hair, down her cheek, brushing away the few tears that had fallen. She seemed startled by his tenderness. He kissed her, softly, gently, finding an outlet for their sorrow. Tentatively, her hand found his neck, wound into his hair as the kiss deepened.

And for a blissful moment all was forgotten. Zack, Gormagon, lines that shouldn't be crossed, open stairways, Limbo, bones...

Then, a voice, "Whoa."

"What is it, Jack?" Angela asked.

They pulled apart instantly, each moving to the far end of the step. Jack would have found it comical had he not been so stunned. Brennan looked up with a look of horror in her eyes.

"Nothing, Angie," Jack replied, not able to take his eyes of the duo in front of him. "I just slipped on the step. Almost lost my balance."

Brennan sighed audibly, and Booth nodded slightly, as if approving of the response. Neither heard the rest of the engaged couple's conversation. Brennan was too busy trying to not look at Booth, and Booth was too busy trying to get Brennan to meet his gaze.

As Angela met Jack at the top of the stairs, Brennan stood. "I'm going home."

Angela walked down and enveloped her friend in a hug. "Try and get some rest, Sweetie." Brennan nodded, feeling tears come back into her eyes.

Jack hugged her next as Angela went over to Booth. "I have to tell her, you know," he whispered. "As soon as we get out of here and we're alone, she'll know I'm hiding something."

Brennan took a step back. "It was nothing."

"I think we both know that's a lie. I know emotions are running high right now, and it could just be the conspiracy theorist in me talking, but everything happens for a reason."

Her eyes followed them as they exited and landed on Booth. "He's going to tell Angela." Booth didn't respond. "You don't seem surprised."

He shrugged. "They tell each other everything. I'd be surprised if he didn't say something."

"Besides, it was nothing, right?" She crossed her arms tightly in front of her. "We're just over-emotional. Stressed. It's been a tough couple of days." She watched his face droop slightly and her brow furrowed. "Right?"

Booth assessed her expression, saw the panic creeping into her eyes. "Yeah, right." She visibly relaxed and Booth knew it was the right answer, even if it wasn't the most truthful. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"You don't have to do that," came her quick reply.

"Yes, I do. I drove you here this morning."

Shit. She'd forgotten. It was just a little kiss, right? A meaningless, emotional outlet. She had no reason to avoid being in a closed space with Booth.

"I'll get my things."

She rejoined him a few minutes later, and this time his hand warmed her entire body when he pressed it to her back to guide her out the front door.

They rode in silence, Brennan's head resting on the cool glass of the window. Booth kept glancing her way, wishing he could read her mind. Was she thinking about him? Of their kiss? Of Zack? A part of him was happy he kissed her just for the distraction from his darker thoughts of their former team member. The feel of Bones' lips on his had certainly lightened his mood. But he knew, deep down, the kiss never would have happened if he wasn't attracted to her in the first place. He sighed and drew his attention back to the road.

She was surprised when he parked in her lot and moved to exit the car. "You don't have to walk me to my door, Booth."

"I know. I want to."

"I'm a big girl…"

"Just let me do this," he cut her off. "I want to know you're safe inside. And don't lecture me on my possessive nature," he said as she prepared to protest. "We've both been through enough lately for me to be a little protective, okay?" His tone warned her not to argue.

He followed her up the stairs and to her door. "Your dad home?"

"No, he's visiting Russ for a while. I think he realized I wanted some time alone." She unlocked the door and entered. She took a quick look around. "See? Nothing to worry about."

But there was something to worry about. Booth had an unrecognizable look in his eyes and before she knew what was happening, the door had shut behind them and he had pressed her up against the frame, his mouth devouring hers.

For a scant millisecond, she considered protesting, but it felt good…oh, so good. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. His hands wound around her waist, making her shirt ride up so his arms were pressed against the smooth skin of her back. His tongue dueled with hers, and she ran her fingernails down his back, causing him to thrust against her. She could feel his hardness sear into her and she groaned. His hands slipped to her hips and he drew circles on her abdomen with his thumbs. Goosebumps formed all over her body. She had never wanted someone so much in her life.

Not someone.

Booth.

She pulled back first. He had expected it. Counted on it. For as much as he wanted her, now was no the moment. None of this would have happened if Zack hadn't… if they hadn't lost Zack.

Brennan took a few deep breaths and straightened her shirt. "What is going on?"

Most would think the question hypothetical, but not from Brennan, not now.

"We're mourning, Bones. People use pleasure to escape their pain. Do you know how much sex occurs after funerals?"

"But Zack didn't die."

"Zack may still be living, but the truth is we've lost a part of our team. The old squint squad -- the old way of doing this -- is dead. The old Zack, the Zack we knew and loved, is dead."

"I refuse to believe that." Tears began to flow just when she thought no more possibly could. She sat on the couch and Booth took his place next to her. He put his arm around her shoulders, but the gesture spoke only of friendship. "He risked his life to save Jack."

"I know. And the old Zack may return some day. But for now we all need to mourn, all need to process this in our own way. And there's extra pressure on us."

She gazed at him, wary. "How do you mean?"

"We're the center. We put things back together when they fall apart."

She sighed and leaned into his embrace. "So we forget this happened? Move on and find a way to get back to normal?"

"We move on," Booth agreed, leaning his head on hers, mirroring the action that began all of this. "But we don't forget, because something like what just happened between us, has meaning. It just needs to be addressed later, once we get back to normal, as you said. Whatever our version of normal is."

She'd have preferred to forget, at least publicly, because she already feared how she'd handle what happened privately. But she knew he was right.

"Friends?" she asked.

"Always."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each to their own thoughts. About the fortieth time he replayed their passionate kiss over in his head, Booth knew it was time to leave.

He stood. "I'm going. You okay?" She nodded. "We okay?"

"Always," she smiled.

She walked him to the door and Booth paused, leaning forward slightly, then awkwardly reaching for the doorknob. He was going to kiss her again. Amazing how two kisses, three if you counted their "Christmas dare," made kissing Bones seem routine.

"Okay, see you Monday," he stammered, as he left.

"Right, and we'll start putting the pieces back together."

Damn it, she looked at once fearful and hopeful and he just couldn't help himself. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. It was nothing in comparison to what had happened when they entered the apartment, but Brennan found herself flushing nonetheless. Even more worrying, they both found a sense of comfort from the gesture.

Booth left and Brennan shut the door. On each side, the duo leaned against the hard wood. Both were well aware that their version of normal had changed for good.

* * *

Please review! I really want to know what you think – your feedback often helps to guide my writing. It also encourages my writing and gets me posting faster! Want to see more B/B interaction? Want to see a case thrown in there? Let me know!


	2. Let's go on dreaming

A/N: Definitely getting into M territory here… Thanks to those of you who reviewed so far and added my story to your alerts. Please – I need more reviews! I hate begging, but I will if I have to. Let me know what you think! Love it? Hate it?

Thanks again to Carrie for her wonderful editing and guidance.

* * *

Let's go on dreaming

A mouth, hot, burning circles on the skin of her neck. A tongue, soft and rough, lathing her breasts. Hands exploring, everywhere at once and yet so focused on the most sensitive parts of her flesh.

"Bones…" he mutters, the word nearly lost in the nape of her neck.

"Booth…" a whisper back.

She awoke with a start!

She was breathing heavily…panting, really – her heart racing.

Where had that come from? Her dream had been so real! She could still feel his skin on her skin, his lips on her lips.

She put a hand to her chest, thump, thump, thump, and glanced at the clock. 5:47. She was never going back to sleep now. She felt restless and hot and unsatisfied. An ache had begun between her legs, but she refused to address it. Not to fantasies of Booth. He was her partner, her best friend, and yes, sometimes, when he looked at her, she felt her stomach flutter as it had with her first crush. And sometimes, when he put his hand on her back to guide her, the spot remained warm long after he let go.

But she was not going there. She was not going to relive the kiss that still caused her to go all warm inside. It was two weeks ago and she couldn't get it out of her mind.

She climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats to join her camisole. She drifted into the kitchen and put on coffee to brew. It was still dark out, and she sighed. What a way to start a Saturday.

While the coffee percolated, she perused her bookshelves, pulling down a journal, fresh and blank and new. By the time she found a pen, the coffee was done, and she curled herself into the sofa.

She didn't often put pen to paper any more, preferring the ease and efficiency of her laptop, but every now and again it just felt good. She loved the sound of the pen scratching, loved the feel of paper beneath her fingers, seeing the white space transformed by words – her words.

This time, though, the space glared up at her like a white black hole, swallowing her creativity before it could even travel from her brain to her fingertips.

She closed her eyes and her mind instantly returned to her dream, flashing scenes of Booth above her. Booth inside her. Booth all over her.

She groaned and opened her eyes. She began to write.

"Why must I dream  
the secrets kept  
in the locked curve  
of my mind?

Why must these thoughts  
burst forth, unbidden,  
and permeate  
my conscience?

The sweetest ecstasy of night  
becomes torture in the day."

"Well, that was helpful," she thought, looking at the scribbled lines of poetry. "Useless," she said aloud.

She threw the journal aside and headed to the kitchen. When all else fails, organize.

She sat on the living room floor, books, notebooks, journals, magazines strewn about her. She startled at the knock on the door, then assessed the mess around her. She shrugged.

"Who is it?" She yelled.

She heard no response other than the sound of metal on metal. She kept her eyes on the door as it opened.

"You know, if I was a serial killer, you'd be dead by now."

"A serial killer wouldn't have a key to my apartment, Booth," she replied. She turned her gaze away, feeling a blush in her cheeks at the mere sight of him. This was bad.

He stepped over the detritus on the floor, stopping behind her to hand over a paper bag. His hand brushed her shoulder and she shivered. Damn. She should have just given in this morning. Then she wouldn't be so sensitive.

Booth plopped down on the couch, his charm smile brightening his face as he looked her up and down. "Are you cold?" he asked, and she heard the levity in his voice. Something amused him. She glanced down and discovered the source, showing plainly through her thin top.

She crossed her arms and flushed. "Why are you here?" she asked, sounding rather aggravated.

Booth feigned hurt. "I brought you breakfast."

She eyed the bag, but refused to uncross her arms. She stood and disappeared into the bedroom, returning moments later in a sweatshirt.

Booth chuckled, assessing her new outfit. She poured him a cup of coffee and handed it to him. His brow furrowed. "Are those my sweats?"

Brennan looked down, seeing the letters "FBI" printed on the leg. She nearly screamed in frustration. He was everywhere!

"Want them back?" she growled, hooking her thumbs in the waistband.

Booth's eyes went wide and dark. Dangerously dark. When he spoke, his voice was low. "Well, if you want. After all, you saw mine." He didn't think he'd ever seen her so red. She flounced down on the carpet, angrily stacking books.

"What's with you today?" he asked, attempting to diffuse her anger.

"I didn't sleep well."

"Bad dream?"

She looked at him sharply. "No! Just… I didn't sleep well."

He nodded, deciding not to press, and sipped his coffee. He shifted on the couch, feeling something hard digging into his back. He reached around and pulled out a notebook of some sort. It appeared empty except for a few lines on the first page. He glanced at Brennan, who was stacking books on the shelves. He took a chance and read the words.

It was unlike anything of hers he'd read before. It was brief, but somehow exciting. What secrets? Ecstasy of night? This must have something to do with the bad night's sleep. He lowered the journal to see two wide but oh-so-beautiful eyes looking at him in horror.

"That's private!" she nearly shrieked.

"C'mon, Bones, it's just a poem. Besides, we're best friends. Best friends share everything."

"Not _everything_!" She saw a fleeting look of hurt cross his features, but it barely registered in the wake of her mortification. She grabbed the journal out of his hands and stormed into her bedroom, slamming shut the door behind her.

_Over-react much? _she thought, as she flopped onto her bed. She lay there for several minutes and was beginning to doze when she heard a faint knock on the door. "Bones?"

She rolled over onto her stomach and groaned.

"I might come into your apartment uninvited, but I won't come into your bedroom."

He could be so stupidly sweet sometimes.

She turned her head and called out "come in" over her shoulder.

He dropped to the bed beside her, laying on his back so their faces were turned to each other. "I'm sorry. I just pulled the book out from under me…"

"I know," she interrupted. "I'm sorry, too. I over-reacted. It's just… that was… personal." She felt ridiculous saying it, seeing as Booth was in her bedroom, on her bed, his face inches from hers. She fought the impulse to touch his cheek.

"You know I'd never intentionally invade your privacy," he continued, adding silently, _not counting doing background checks on any man you date_.

She smiled. "I know."

He reached for her. "What are you doing?" she exclaimed, inching away.

"Guy hug."

"Booth, holding me, in my bedroom, on my bed, does _not_ constitute a guy hug."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he responded as his eyes darkened again, refusing to lose contact with hers.

He reached over again, this time brushing a strand of hair out of her face. He could feel the heat radiating from her. Her eyes were dusky, pupils dilated, and he was reminded of the poem.

"What secrets reside in the curve of your mind?" he asked, softly, tracing a line from the middle of her hairline to loop around her ear. Brennan was breathless, speechless. Booth moved closer. "I want to know your secrets."

"I don't have any," she whispered.

"Liar," he grinned. His expression changed instantly when he felt something wet and rough on his hand. "Whoa!" he said, snapping upright.

A mass of something furry darted under the bed. Brennan scooted forward, head hanging off the mattress so she could look under the bed. "You scared him off."

"Scared who off?"

"My cat."

"You have a cat? Since when?"

"Since yesterday. Angela and I were out and saw this shelter that was in serious need of help so… She convinced me--Angela did--that I needed the company.

She emerged with the animal in hand. He was about five pounds with short gray fur and the pinkest nose Booth had ever seen.

"He's cute!" Booth took the cat from Brennan. He snuggled into Booth's chest and licked his chin. "Friendly little guy."

"Yeah," Brennan smiled, and scratched the cat's ears. "He has a great personality. Lots of fun to watch."

"What's his name?"

"Effie."

"Effie? It's a he, isn't it?"

"Yes, he is." She paused to dig again under the bed. "Angela named him because he quickly made it known that this was his favorite possession." She reappeared displaying an FBI t-shirt that, after a day of love, was already scratched and holey.

Booth frowned. "That was my favorite, too." He held the cat up to his face, and Effie reached out and licked Booth's nose. "Now how could I stay mad after that? You and your mommy both know how to get to me."

"I doubt I'll be licking your nose, Booth."

"Okay, then Effie can lick my nose, and you," he turned to Brennan and her stomach clenched in anticipation, "can kiss my lips, instead."

She vaulted off the bed. "Don't." Why did he have to bring that up again? Some things were better left unsaid. Better left undone.

"Don't what? We've flirted before."

"But not like that." She sounded almost weary, and refused to meet his gaze. Booth struggled to figure out what was going on with her. Yes, his kissing comment was more direct than most of his flirtatious comments, but it wasn't like he asked her to sleep with him. He again recalled the poem. Secrets… ecstasy… torture… She hadn't been herself since the minute he walked into her apartment. Had she been dreaming of him? Of… making love to him?

"You know, Bones, it's perfectly normal to have fantasies about people of the opposite sex. Especially if you work closely with them."

Her head snapped around and she stared, mouth agape. "I never said…"

"Not with words, no." He set the cat on the bed. "If it makes you feel any better, I've dreamt about you."

"You have?" He nodded. "I feel like I'm in the twinkle zone." She sat on the bed and scratched Effie's back.

"Twinkle zone?"

"You know, where everything seems off? In reverse?"

"Twilight zone," Booth grinned.

"Whatever."

"What do you mean?"

"Usually you're the one uncomfortable talking about sex, and here I am completely bent out of shape because of one little dream." _One intense, amazing, make you want to sleep forever, dream._

And he had been okay with the conversation until that word came out of her mouth – sex – and she basically admitted she had been dreaming about him. And her. Having sex. Suddenly, his mouth went dry as he recalled a few dreams of his own. "Yeah, well, it happens," he stuttered.

"Right. It's a perfectly normal biological response, most likely brought on by the intensity of our last case and the fact that it's been some time since I…"

"Okay, stop there." Booth held up his hands in protest.

"Now you're uncomfortable."

"I just don't need to know the specifics of your sex life, okay?"

Brennan was about to protest, but then she realized she didn't really want to know about Booth's sex life, either. She found herself unreasonably angry at the thought of Booth with another woman. Not that he'd ever been _with_ her. She just… didn't want to think about it. Oh, God.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she quickly recognized the fire in his eyes mirrored her own. She remembered when she didn't even know what that expression of his meant. This was getting dangerous.

"Maybe… maybe I should go. You should try and take a nap. You're tired."

"Right." She breathed a sigh of relief, more than willing to let him make his exit. "Thank you for the breakfast." _Although food was the last thing on her mind right now…_

"Welcome. Congratulations on the cat."

She nodded. Booth exited her bedroom awkwardly and she heard the door shut and the lock click a few moments later. She fell back onto the bed and Effie jumped onto her chest. She was certain she would never fall asleep, but before long, the rhythmic purring of the cat had lulled her mind to rest.

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	3. The music played along for only two

**A/N:** More notes at the end to avoid spoilers. As always, I own nothing. I rent my apartment and lease my car. At least my cat is mine.

Carrie's a genius. Thanks for the spanktacular editing.

And thanks to everyone for reviewing! More, please! There's a shoutout in here to reviewer iamwriter for her "friends and lovers" comment. :)

* * *

The music played along for only two

Booth leaned against the door and rubbed his face. What was he thinking? More appropriately, what was he thinking with? He could still feel the warmth of Bones on the bed next to him, feel her soft hair beneath his fingertips.

He never should have kissed her. Again.

He slowly walked to his car, replaying that day in his mind. It had been one of the worst days of his life and that was how he had rationalized what he'd done. What _they_ had done. He may have made the first move, but Bones was definitely a willing participant.

That was what drove him crazy. He could tell that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she was always the one to pull away, always the one to retreat inside herself. He figured it was from fear. Bones wasn't one to open herself freely to others and if she felt for him anything near what he felt for her, she was likely suffering from emotional overload. Gruesome, horrific deaths she could compartmentalize. Love, she could not.

He couldn't recall the exact moment he realized he was in love with her. For so long his feelings had been masked by lust, by longing. There was such a physical attraction between them; it had been difficult to see anything but that. The most unusual moments would catch him off-guard. Watching her absently tucking a lock of hair behind her ears, stretching after hours seated doing paperwork, wrinkling her nose right before she sneezed. He would feel his pulse rise and it took all of his self control not to launch at her and make her forget everything but pure, intense pleasure. Booth had always been a giving lover, but this was the first time he had no interest in achieving his own release. His fantasies were always about focusing on her, bringing her to climax over and over again, and through that he knew he would have all the satisfaction he needed.

If only there wasn't so much at stake. She was his partner--his best friend--and no matter what, he couldn't lose that. But what was that old saying? About friends making the best lovers? He had to believe they could have both, could find a way to make it work. Right?

Booth was not used to feeling such a lack of self-confidence. He was a very aware person. He knew his strengths and his weaknesses, although he would never publicly acknowledge those weaknesses. He knew she cared for him. Bones did not have many people in her life and he was honored to be one of the few she allowed in.

He realized that she had very few moments in her life where she was part of a "we". Over the years she had lost her mother, father, brother, several lovers, and now a friend. There was great power in that two-letter word. It meant belonging. It meant commitment. It was the antithesis to loneliness. For the majority of her life, Temperance Brennan had been singular…an "I"…table for one. Perhaps that's where her fear came from -- the unknown abyss of "we".

These thoughts ran through his head on the drive home and he was amazed that he had made it in one piece, as distracted as he was. He flopped down onto the couch and wondered if 11:00 a.m. was too early for a beer. Who could have imagined a kiss could be so derailing?

By some unwritten pact they had refrained from acknowledging what had happened between them the day they discovered the truth about Zack. It wasn't that Booth didn't want to talk about it; it was that he knew Bones wouldn't. He knew she preferred to pretend that it didn't happen. While Booth could do that on the outside, he certainly couldn't on the inside. He had spent many nights laying awake, thinking of the feeling of her lips pressed to his, only to fall asleep and dream much, much more.

At least he wasn't the only one fantasizing. The realization that Bones had been having erotic dreams that featured him in the starring role had only exacerbated his already heightened libido. What if he just threw himself at her again, but this time, didn't allow her to back away? Would it help? Hurt?

He growled in frustration and rolled over onto his side with a force much greater than was necessary and found himself falling hard to the floor. As he lay there, face down, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He heard a knock at the door.

"Go away!" he hollered. The door swung open and he cursed himself for not locking it.

"Don't shoot. I come in peace," Hodgins announced, remaining in the doorframe until he was certain entering Booth's place would not result in a trip to the emergency room. From his spot on the floor, Booth groaned.

"Bad night?" Hodgins asked, observing the prone agent with a grin.

"Bad morning," Booth replied, hauling himself back onto the couch.

"Oh, really?" Hodgins raised an eyebrow as he plopped into a chair. "Who is she?"

Booth glared. "Have you always been this perverted?"

"Only since I started dating Angie." He took a moment to evaluate his friend, from his closed eyes to his slumped posture. "You look tired."

"I am tired. Emotionally tired."

"Let me guess. This has something to do with the good doctor?"

Booth sighed. He never thought he'd want to talk women with the supreme bug guy, but the two had grown closer since Hodgins had asked him to be his best man. And once you got beneath the surface, he really wasn't as squinty as he seemed. He'd at least had his fair share of experience with women.

"I went to see her this morning."

"Brennan?" Booth nodded his confirmation. "Why?"

"I don't know. I mean, we do this sometimes on the weekends. Get breakfast, wrap up paperwork, hang out."

"Uh huh," Hodgins replied. Booth glared again. How those two little sounds could have such meaning.

"She's my friend, alright?" Booth sprung up, defensive, and paced the living room. Hodgins, for once, said nothing, knowing Booth needed to process whatever was going on in his head. After a few moments of silence, he crashed back down onto the couch. "I can't get her out of my head," he said, quietly, almost sadly.

"I know we haven't talked much about it, but Angie and I didn't exactly fall into each other's arms declaring our love from the outset," Hodgins shared. Booth perked up, propping his head on his arm. "I was crazy about her…so crazy in love with her." He smiled at the memory, smiled at the love he still felt for her. "But she was hesitant. She was convinced it wasn't going to work, and that when it failed, it would make things awkward at work and would ruin the family we've developed together." His eyes met Booth's. "Sound familiar? Angie and Bren have more in common than it would seem."

"What changed her mind?"

"I almost died." Hodgins paused as he let this sink in.

"Gravedigger."

"Yeah. I think Angie realized I was worth the risk. That _we_ were worth the risk."

"Bones and I have faced death before. And each time we're reunited, I want to tell her how I feel, but something holds me back."

"Maybe you just haven't had your moment yet, you know? I mean, I hate to show myself for the hopeless romantic that I am, but maybe the time hasn't been right for you to get everything out in the open. We've all been under a lot of stress for the last year, but no one more than Brennan. I can see that you wouldn't want to add to that. Even though being in love is a wonderful, magical thing for most people, it's new territory for Brennan. It's scary for her, and it delves into her least favorite topic: psychology. It was the same for Angela. Yeah, she'd had relationships before and had loved before, but I don't think she'd ever felt so deeply before. It's daunting to give yourself completely to someone else."

"Wow, Hodgins. For a bug and slime guy, you're pretty wise."

"I am a man of limitless abilities." He chanced giving Booth a quick pat on the shoulder and was pleased to be rewarded with a grin instead of a glare.

"What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

Hodgins reached into his back pocket and produced an envelope, which he handed to Booth.

"You're kidding," Booth said after sliding open the flap and removing the two tickets. "Penguins and Capitals? These are good seats!"

"Those are great seats. Right behind the Penguins' goal for first and third."

"I didn't know you were a hockey fan."

Hodgins grinned. "I'm not, but I have connections. I thought you'd appreciate the tickets more than me. And maybe you could introduce a certain anthropologist to the game."

"Oh, I can only imagine the comments she'd have," Booth laughed. "'Overt displays of alpha-male positioning, egregious violent behavior…' Actually, it might be pretty entertaining, after she gets a few beers in her."

"Have a good time, Man," Hodgins said, standing up to leave.

Booth walked him to the door. He looked awkward for a moment and rubbed absently at the back of his neck as Hodgins opened the door. "Hey, Hodgins… Thanks."

The scientist knew well enough to just nod in return. "Anytime," he said quickly, and headed for his car.

Booth shut the door, his mind spinning. Bones and hockey. This could be fun.

* * *

I know it's calling it close with hockey season, for all you die-hard fans. I figure we're in late May/early June in this story, so the playoffs would still be happening. Let's pretend the Capitals might actually make it to the playoffs, okay? Next chapter, hockey goodness!

P.S. Go Sabres!


	4. So close to feeling alive

**NOTE:** This chapter has been updated with some major differences, notably my original character Trevor is now Karen. I gave him a sex change. :) 8/27/08

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay in posting. At least this chapter is longer than the others... Some people's editors seem to think they can go hide in a cabin in the woods instead of editing my story. Pshaw. Thanks to Leah for pinch-hitting. Carrie, you still rock. Watch out for squirrels. Enjoy!

So close to feeling alive

"Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you have plans tonight?"

The question caught her off guard, momentarily. If they had a new case, he would have come right out with it, or just shown up at her door. What was he after? She eyed the stack of papers in front of her. "I'm guest-editing the _Journal of Anthropology_. I have a mountain of articles to read."

"So I'll take that as a 'no'."

Brennan bristled. "Between our case work, the number of skeletons in Limbo, and my novels, I barely have any free time as it is. I need to review these articles."

"When's your deadline?"

She sighed. "Why does my deadline matter? Did you not hear me just explain my schedule?"

"Not for a while, then." Booth was glad he was on the phone so Brennan couldn't witness the grin on his face. He loved getting her riled up.

Brennan said nothing and seriously considered hanging up the phone, but she knew it wouldn't accomplish anything. "What do you want, Booth?" she asked weakly.

"For you to be ready at six. We're going to a hockey game."

She fell back on the couch and dramatically threw her arm over her eyes. "You're kidding."

"Hodgins gave me some great seats. And it's the playoffs – Penguins vs. Capitals."

"I get the penguins, but capitals? Last time I checked, the home of our nation's legislative branch couldn't ice skate."

"Oh, Bones," Booth groaned, sounding pained. "Are you serious?"

Brennan held back her laughter. "What would make you think that I would possibly enjoy a hockey game?"

"Well," Booth hesitated for a moment, "I thought you might at least enjoy the company." She could hear the disappointment in his voice, a stark contrast to his earlier tone. Damn him and his ability to twist her emotions without even trying.

After a moment of internal battle, Brennan spoke. "The least you could do is ask me properly."

"Would you like to go to the hockey game with me tonight?" His voice sounded excited again, hopeful, even.

"Sure. At the very least it will be an interesting examination, from an anthropological standpoint, of how alpha-male tendencies portray themselves on the ice rink."

Booth chuckled. "I told Hodgins you'd say something like that."

She smiled. "You know me too well, Booth."

"As long as I'm the only one who does," came his quick reply, and both pondered the hidden meaning behind the statement.

Silence hung in the air like fog. Brennan finally spoke up. "What do I wear?"

"Jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. It can get a little cold by the ice. Of course, I probably have a spare Penguins jersey I could lend you."

"I think I'll pass," she deadpanned, and Booth laughed. She was happy their conversation had returned to their usual back and forth.

"However, I won't complain if you want to wear my sweats and that tiny little tank top again."

_No, no, no, no, no_, she thought.

Booth, on the other hand, wasn't exactly sure where his bravado had come from. He could even tell that his tone of voice had grown more seductive. Maybe what Hodgins had said was taking effect. Maybe they hadn't had their moment yet, but that didn't mean Booth couldn't steer them in that direction.

Finding her voice, Brennan said, "Fine, then. I'll wear the largest black muumuu I can find."

"You'd still look sexy."

Damn him! "Booth…"

"See you at six," he said, hanging up before she could break into some speech about appropriate conversation and crossing lines… lines that he had put into place. Hell, if he put them there, he could take them away.

At ten 'til six, Brennan was staring at her reflection in the mirror, debating hairstyles. Frustrated with herself, she pulled her auburn locks into a loose ponytail and shrugged. Then a thought hit her: _Was this a date?_ It seemed like one. If it was with anyone other than Booth, that's what she'd assume. He asked her out, right? She made him ask her out. And it was a hockey game, not a dinner caught late after closing a case or lunch in the middle of the week. It was a social event outside the realm of their normal activities, on a Saturday night, with no excuses to fall back on other than Booth had wanted her to go. Wanted her company. Wanted her to want his, too. That was an awful lot of wanting for a non-date.

Effie weaved in between her legs and she picked him up, cuddling him to her chest. He reveled in the attention and stretched his legs out to knead her chest, purring loudly. Brennan smiled and scratched his head, feeling herself relax instantly. Angela was right: the cat was a good idea.

There was a knock at the door and she went to answer it, depositing Effie on the bed en route. It was Booth, looking far too good in a black v-neck sweater and jeans, a belt buckle she had never seen before loudly emblazoning the word "stud" in silver letters. She gestured to the belt. "Feel the need to advertise?"

Booth grinned as he entered her apartment. "Like it? I found it a couple of days ago in this great store on K."

"Some people might say that you showcase displays of manhood on your belt in order to compensate for something."

"That sounds an awful lot like psychology," Booth said, still grinning. "Besides," he continued, closing the space between them. "I don't have to worry about compensating for anything."

Brennan watched his eyes drift downward and she was about to comment when she noticed the odd look on his face. _Oh, no, not again,_ she thought, but as her eyes followed his and found the mound of cat hair attached to her shirt, she huffed in irritation.

"Guess I need to change," she said, heading toward the bedroom. "Maybe the cat wasn't such a great idea," she muttered as she rounded the corner, pulling the shirt over her head.

Booth heard none of the words, distracted by the expanse of her back and hint of bra that displayed themselves before she was out of sight. He felt like he'd never seen a naked woman before. And Bones wasn't even naked – just a glance at usually-hidden skin caused an uncomfortable tightening in his pants. He rubbed at his face and tried to force his imagination to shut down.

She emerged from the bedroom and Booth noticed for the first time just how well her jeans fit her. She had changed from the now-furry oversized Jeffersonian t-shirt to a form-fitting rose sweater that revealed more chest than he could handle right now.

Brennan noticed his half-gaped look and glanced down to make sure Effie hadn't attached himself somewhere without notice. She thought she looked fine. "What are you staring at?" she finally asked.

Booth broke out of his revelry. So much for shutting down his imagination. He had the sweater in a pool on the floor by the time Brennan spoke. "I just…" he stumbled. "I just don't think I've ever seen you in pink before." He let out a breath, impressed with his lie.

She shrugged. "Most of the time whatever I'm wearing is covered by a lab coat," she replied, forcing her logical mind to agree with what he said and ignoring the look on his face that said something else entirely.

"Okay, let's go." Booth recovered, steering Brennan toward the door as he began to explain the basics of hockey to her. _Focus on sports_, he thought. _Goalie, defense, left wing, right wing, when did she start smelling so good?_

It was going to be a long game.

Booth's excitement grew as they neared the arena. In spite of herself, Brennan found his enthusiasm to be catching and was actually looking forward to putting her newly acquired knowledge to the test. Although, to be honest, as much as Booth had shared, the only thing she was certain of was a bunch of guys were going to try to put a small, black disc into a goal via wooden sticks.

"I just wonder how much fighting is going to break out," Booth prattled on as they walked toward the entrance.

"Fighting? You didn't mention that in your description of the game. Is that part of the play?"

"Nope, but it's part of the tradition."

"Alpha-male posturing."

"Testosterone, sweat, and the drive to win," Booth countered.

"That's exactly what I said," Brennan replied. Booth looked about to say something, but instead tossed his arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the correct entrance.

Brennan didn't think she'd ever seen Booth smile so much, she reflected as they handed over their tickets and entered the arena. Her eyes took in the milieu of people; some were chatting, others laughing, a few in opposing teams' shirts debating heatedly. The crowd was mostly men – men and beer.

They walked down the hall and up a few stairs to their seats, which were three rows up and centered behind the goal.

"Hodgins was right. These are great seats," Booth said as they sat.

"Everyone looks so happy," Brennan commented. Booth's look confirmed the comment came out sounding as odd as she thought it would. "It's a large group of people and nearly all are smiling. You usually don't see that in a group this size."

"That's because it's hockey, Bones," Booth replied, pumping his fists in the air in exuberance. "You know what? You need a beer. And a hot dog."

"I don't eat hot dogs."

"Fine. Beer and a soft pretzel. I'll be back." Booth headed toward the concession stands, and Brennan smiled at his retreating figure.

"First time at a game?" a voice asked.

Brennan turned to the woman on her right. She looked to be about her father's age, with graying brown hair and a warm smile. "Yeah. I'm not exactly into sports. I didn't even own a television until a few weeks ago." _When Booth's constant complaining finally got to me… _she added silently.

"Well, your boyfriend seems to be enjoying himself," the woman continued.

"He's not my boyfriend," Brennan responded, feeling like it was the hundredth time she'd spoken that phrase. "We're partners."

"Is that the politically correct term these days? I guess I'm just too old to pay attention anymore."

A look of confusion crossed Brennan's face before she caught on. "No, it's not like that. We work together. We're partners at work. Booth, the man with me, is FBI."

"Ah," the woman said, comprehension dawning on her face. "So he's FBI and you're…"

"A forensic anthropologist. We have a special partnership."

"I can see that," the woman replied with a grin and a definite teasing tone to her voice. Brennan opened her mouth to respond, but the woman continued. "I'm Karen. Nice to meet you."

"Temperance Brennan."

"The author?" She nodded. "Wow. I'm an English professor at American. One of my students did a report on _Bred in the Bone_. It got me hooked on the series."

"Thank you." Brennan smiled. She loved to write and enjoyed the success of her books, but she still didn't know how to react when greeted by a fan.

"I guess your _partner_, here, then, is the one Andy is based off of?"

"Damn straight," Booth replied, having just returned. He handed Brennan her beer and pretzel and resumed his seat. He settled his own beer in the cup holder and turned to Karen, extending his hand. "Seeley Booth."

"Karen Carlisle."

Brennan frowned. She didn't like the way Karen was insinuating something more was going on between her and Booth. She didn't even know what was going on between them. How could a perfect stranger? And then there was Booth, insisting once again, he was Andy. "Look…" she began, but Booth clamped a hand over her mouth.

"I know, I know. You don't have to say it, Bones. I'm not Andy. I don't speak six languages. I'm not a superhero. I don't have perfectly sculpted abs." Booth withdrew his hand.

Brennan sipped her beer, trying to calm her heart that now seemed to race at any contact from Booth. "You're not exactly… un-sculpted." Booth grinned widely and she took a larger drink from her beer.

"I thought you might have noticed," Booth quipped. "I wasn't the only one who lacked modesty." He couldn't forget her eyes roving over him in a critical analysis that was far more female than forensic anthropologist.

Her eyes went wide and she swallowed hard, some beer slipping down the wrong way. She coughed furiously. Booth patted her on the back, unable to stop smiling.

"I have this effect on women."

Karen laughed. "Must be difficult for you." She paused until Brennan had stopped coughing and composed herself, noting that as embarrassed as she was, she hadn't removed Booth's hand from her back, where he was now rubbing in gentle circles. "You two remind me of me and my husband." She smiled sadly.

"In what way?" Brennan asked, more to take attention off of herself than anything else.

"The back and forth, the teasing. He kept me on my toes for thirty-two years." She paused again. "He passed away three months ago. Cancer."

"I'm sorry," Booth said.

"They say the pain goes away with time," Karen shrugged, not looking like she believed what she was saying. "Our kids got me tickets to this game. I used to come often with Greg, my husband. I think the kids knew how much we used to enjoy it. But I couldn't bring anyone with me. It would seem like cheating, somehow."

Booth nodded in sympathy.

"My mother died," Brennan shared, surprised at herself for doing so. Booth's hand stilled.

"How old were you?" Karen asked gently.

"Fif…" She paused, correcting herself. "Seventeen. But I hadn't seen her since I was fifteen." Booth began rubbing her back again, up and down, in comforting strokes. "It's complicated."

Karen nodded, and didn't press for more information. "Our kids are grown. They're 28 and 30. I'm happy they had as much time with their dad as they did. It must have been hard for you."

"Yeah," Brennan said, clearing her throat.

Booth could tell she had enough of the conversation. "Married for thirty-two years? That's nice to hear. So many marriages don't last any more."

"I think it's because most couples just don't want to work at it. Marriage isn't easy, and many young people, no offense intended, are used to having things handed to them. They just expect everything to go their way. Marriage is all about compromise. Learning when to stand up and learning when to give in, and more than anything, trusting in the love you have for each other."

"Well said," Booth smiled.

"Either of you ever been married?"

Brennan shook her head. Booth said, "No. Came close once, but it wasn't meant to be. Bones doesn't believe in marriage." He paused, realizing the implication behind grouping those two sentences together. Brennan looked at him, wide-eyed. "You know what I mean," he said to her.

She turned to Karen. "Booth impregnated his girlfriend and then proposed to her, but she said 'no.' My not wanting to get married has nothing to do with any of that," she said in her usual blunt way.

"Nice, Bones. Real nice." Booth shook his head. "Remember all those conversations we've had about thinking before speaking?"

Though she could hear the jest in his voice, she crossed her arms defensively. "I was just speaking the truth."

"You always do."

"Is that such a bad thing?" she asked, turning to face him, arms returning to her side. Karen watched the exchange with interest.

"No. In fact, most of the time it's a great thing. I admire you for it."

"Most of the time?" she spat, voice rising. "Wait, you admire me?"

"Of course I do, Bones. Don't you admire me?"

"Well, yes," she said slowly. Next to her, Karen laughed. "What?" Brennan asked her.

"You two ever consider therapy?" she grinned.

In almost mirrored movements, Booth and Brennan's eyes met and returned forward. The duo then leaned back in their seats and crossed their arms.

"Been there," Brennan said.

"Done that," finished Booth.

"Somehow, I don't envy your therapist."

A voice spoke from above. "Will you all please rise for the national anthem."

Karen glanced at the couple next to her, both seemingly lost in thought. She smiled, thinking, _Home of the brave, indeed._

I hope you'll all please R&R. I've been hammering away at a bit of writer's block, but I have a really good idea for the upcoming chapter, so I hope there won't be as much of a delay between posts in the future.

**Disclaimer:** I have no idea if there's a real _Journal of Anthropology_. There probably is, but I'm too lazy to google it. Trust me when I say I have no connection to that possible publication.


	5. Look how far we've come

**Important Note:** Please go back and re-read chapter 4 or make special note that I've updated and the character formerly known as Trevor is now Karen. I need to do a sex change to make some later plot points work.

**A/N:** Carrie rocks my character socks. She made some really fantastic suggestions for this chapter. I forgive you for losing my inheritance in Atlantic City. Hee. I'm at a conference this week in downtown Baltimore and then on vacation through Monday, so don't expect any updates before then... but I do hope to have more early next week. I'd really like to see more reviews... so if you click that little periwinkle button, maybe you'll get a chapter sooner. Hint, hint. Oh, and I'm not, in any sense, a bone expert... the medical stuff used in this chapter was taken from the internet, so if something is wrong, please tell me.

* * *

Look how far we've come

"How are their temporal bones still intact?" Brennan asked after, for the twentieth time, several players smashed hard into the plexiglass.

"It's called a helmet."

"But still… that force!" She paused to think. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen the skeleton of a hockey player."

Booth could see the wheels of her mind turning. "I don't think any of these guys will volunteer to be the first."

"Or any of the zygomatic bones," she continued listing breakable parts, ignoring him. "Or the clavicle."

"That, they break," Booth piped up. Brennan looked at him in astonishment. "What? The collar bone. That one's easy. It's not like the super-dooper artsy surfer."

"I'll assume you mean the superior articular surface, and because of that painful mispronunciation of vertebral physiology, I expect to be completely forgiven the next time I don't know a popular culture reference."

"Are all of your conversations like this?" Karen broke in.

"Pretty much," Booth responded, throwing his arm over the back of Brennan's seat.

Karen chuckled.

Brennan didn't hear either speak as her eyes were glued to the ice as an emerging skirmish slid closer to them. Suddenly, she stood up and yelled, "Protect your olecranon process, number 23! Have you no respect for your proximal ulna?"

The whistle had blown by this point, and Booth could swear number 23 was looking at Brennan, a confused look in his eye. Booth sighed. Well, at least she was getting into the game.

The game continued, Brennan sitting, and the players resuming their mad dash around the ice. The score was tied at two in the third period, and most of the action focused on the Penguins' goal.

"Why don't you yell something useful, Bones?"

"What I yelled was useful. He could have broken his elbow."

"If he spoke French."

"Greek."

"Whatever. Repeat after me, 'go for the goal!'"

"If they don't know to do that already, then they shouldn't be on a professional hockey team," Brennan deadpanned.

Karen burst into laughter. "Seriously. You guys should be on a television show."

Booth grinned, but Brennan failed to see the humor. "Do you not see the logic in my statement?"

"Dr. Brennan," Karen replied, still smiling, "humans are rarely logical."

"Amen," Booth agreed.

Brennan pouted. "Well, they should be."

"Come on, Bones," Booth said, placing his arm around her shoulders. "If the entire world was full of logical people, where would we find laughter? Besides, a world full of Vulcans does not appeal to me."

"I don't see the connection to volcanoes, but you do have a point." She paused for a moment, and Booth was about to call her out on her lack of _Star Trek_ knowledge when he remembered her earlier words. This would be her one forgiven reference. "It does seem that logic and humor are at odds with each other," she continued. "That's quite an insight, Booth. I'm impressed."

The charm smile appeared and Booth hooked his thumb behind his belt buckle. "The belt doesn't lie."

Brennan rolled her eyes, but settled further into the crook of his shoulder. "Ego," she muttered, because she knew a response was expected, but she couldn't hide the smile on her face.

"Did you see that shot at the end? WHAM!" Booth made a mock hit, swinging his arms back, then forward with force. "It was amazing. Ten seconds to go. I love this game! Short, to the point, lots of action, right up until the buzzer."

"I have to admit, it was rather enjoyable, considering the circumstances."

"From Temperance Brennan, that's an A," Booth grinned.

What Brennan was thinking, even though she didn't want to, was how enjoyable it had been to sit with Booth's arm around her. How she had taken every opportunity to move closer and closer to him until her head was practically on his shoulder. At one point, he'd casually rested his hand on her thigh and the heat that coursed through her at his touch had her convinced when she arrived home and undressed, an imprint would remain.

Booth had noticed her increasing physical closeness, but chose not to comment. He wasn't sure what to do. Part of him wanted to encourage her, to push her to explore her feelings for him. But another part of him teased with the idea of pulling back entirely to see how she reacted. What would she do if all of a sudden the hugs and gentle touches were gone? Would he even be able to stop?

Their thoughts were interrupted when a woman in a suit approached the couple who stood near their seats, celebrating the Penguins win with Karen.

"Hi, are you the two who had seats 7A-1 and 2?"

"Yeah," Booth replied, warily.

"Great," the woman smiled. "If you'd like to follow me, I'll take you down to the meeting area."

"Meeting area?" Booth asked, feeling lost.

"These seats are reserved for our VIP meet-and-greet. After the game, you get to meet players from each team. Didn't you know that?"

Just when Brennan thought Booth couldn't smile any bigger, he proved her wrong.

"The tickets were a gift," Brennan explained, for Booth seemed speechless.

"Oh, how nice. A surprise."

"Can we bring our friend along?" Brennan asked, pointing to Karen.

"I don't see why not. Follow me."

"I don't want to impose," Karen objected.

"Nonsense. Right this way." The woman led them out of the rink and on a circuitous path to the entry way to the teams' locker rooms. She told them to wait for a few minutes so the players could change and that she'd be back shortly with a camera.

Booth was so excited he couldn't stand still. "I wonder who it's going to be! Or how many! I can't believe Hodgins didn't tell me. I can't believe he didn't want to come!"

"I'm sure he knew how much it would mean to you," Brennan replied, smiling at Booth. He looked like a little kid on his way to Disney World for the first time. She'd have to remember to thank Hodgins on Monday.

Booth began pacing. Karen turned to Brennan. "He's not like this often, is he?"

"The last time he was like this was when we accidentally got high from a crime scene." Karen raised her eyebrows. "Don't ask."

Minutes later, several men came walking out of the locker rooms, dressed in well-tailored suits Booth would be proud of. Brennan was surprised at their stature – they looked much taller on the ice.

The players began the introductions. There were six in total, three from each team, and Brennan watched as Booth – a man she'd seen keep his cool in the most dangerous situations – barely controlled his excitement.

One player, in particular, seemed to single Brennan out, and as they shook hands, he seemed to have a glint of recognition in his eyes.

"Temperance Brennan," she offered. Booth was at her side now, his hand resting comfortably on her back. This time, she felt it was more as a way for Booth to settle himself than anything else.

"Eric Donalds. I thought you looked familiar. My wife loves your books. Can I have an autograph?"

Brennan found herself blushing and Booth's hand slipped around her waist. She gazed up at him and he beamed proudly down on her.

"Sure." She quickly scratched her name on a piece of paper their guide had produced. The woman then snapped a quick picture of the three.

"You were seated near the goal, right? The Penguins goal for the first and third?" Booth nodded in affirmation. Eric smiled. "I'm number 23. What on earth were you saying? I would never have heard you if not for the ref's timing, but in this rare moment of quiet I heard this voice telling me something in a language I didn't understand."

"I was telling you to watch your elbow. You were headed straight for the wall and you could have easily broken it."

"Except she said that in Latin," Booth quipped.

"Greek."

"Whatever."

Eric felt like he was watching a tennis match as he observed the verbal volley between the two.

"So, how long have you been together?"

Brennan groaned. Booth chuckled.

"Too long," Booth replied. "And yet not long enough."

Booth beamed as they walked out of the arena fifteen minutes later. "I think that is probably the coolest thing I've done. Well, other than becoming a father."

"What about having a book dedicated to you?" Brennan asked, smiling.

Booth shrugged nonchalantly and Brennan elbowed him. He laughed. "Make that #2. I'm sorry, but it can't surpass my first born."

"I wouldn't expect it to."

"Well," Karen broke in. "I'm off in the distance," she said, gesturing to a corner of the lot.

"We're in the other direction, so I guess this is where we part ways," Booth replied. He reached out to shake Karen's hand. "It was great to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine. I was worried about feeling sad tonight, but that doesn't seem possible with you two for entertainment." She chuckled.

Brennan rooted in her purse for a moment, emerging with a business card. She wasn't sure why, but she felt she made a connection to the woman. Maybe it was their shared sense of loss, maybe it was that Karen reminded her of the mother she could have had… Either way, she didn't want tonight to be goodbye forever.

She offered Karen the card, Booth looking on in surprise but with a smile on his face. "Feel free to call." She paused, stumbling for a reason. "In case you ever need more entertainment. Or company. My dad is about your age."

"Bones, I'm sure Karen doesn't want to be set up with your dad," Booth groaned.

"Who said anything about setting them up? I'm talking companionship. Besides, what's so wrong with my father?" Booth eyed her levelly for a moment, a dubious expression on his face. She sighed. "He was acquitted of all charges." Karen went wide-eyed. "Everything he's done can be rationalized by his love for my family."

"I know, Bones," Booth replied, softly. "I know."

Still unsure of what was going on, Karen felt the need to change the conversation's focus. She tucked the card in her bag. "Thank you, Temperance," she said, pulling the doctor into a hug. Brennan allowed herself to hug back. "Good luck with your 'special partnership'." She took a step back. "I had 32 years with my husband and I would have given anything for just one day more."

She took Brennan's hand in her left and Booth's in her fright, her eyes intent on one than the other. "Don't wait too long. Don't leave too much up to Chance. She can give, but She can also take away."

Brennan immediately found herself wanting to argue the personification of Chance, but she quickly recognized it as a defense mechanism.

After giving her advice a chance to sink in, she took the couple's hands and joined them together. Their hands linked easily, fingers entwining, and Brennan stared at them. Karen placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "And if you change your mind, in my spare time, I'm a minister at the Free Church. I'd love to do the services." With a chuckle, she turned and headed toward her car.

Booth and Brennan didn't move, just stood there, hand-in-hand. It was a warm night, but both felt a chill move across them.

"Not to pull a Hodgins," Booth finally spoke, quietly, "but I feel like we've been part of a cosmic set-up."

This brought Brennan back into the moment. She dropped her hand from his. "What?"

"The tickets out of nowhere from Hodgins, sitting next to this widow who almost seemed to need us – and us, her, and was a fan of yours, then Eric hearing you during the game and meeting him after the game, and his wife was also a fan of yours, and what Karen just said… It's like all these people were exactly where they needed to be." Booth wasn't into mysticism by any means, but he was spiritual and believed that things happened for a reason.

Brennan did not. "Two people, out of a crowd of 20,000 knew me as a published author. Considering I've been on the list of best sellers, this does not come as a surprise. Meeting Karen was really nice, and she had some serious insights, but that wasn't unusual or 'cosmic', to meet someone new at a public event. It all comes down to probability. Nothing more."

"I see fate, you see a statistical analysis."

She shrugged. "Yes."

He looked mildly disappointed. He had seen something in her eyes as she stared at their locked hands, saw a reaction to Karen's words. Why did she always have to hide behind logic? _Another argument for another day_, he thought. This evening had been amazing and he didn't want to ruin it by getting into another one of their heated discussions.

They began walking to the car, in silence. He unlocked the car and they entered. As Brennan buckled, Booth leaned over and kissed her on the lips. He lingered for a moment when she didn't pull back, then returned to his side and started the car. "Thanks for deciding my company was worth the potential boredom of the game."

She could still feel the warmth of his lips on hers. She felt oddly introspective, and from out of nowhere a sense of melancholy rained down upon her. "Do I disappoint you?"

Booth, about to exit the lot, stopped the car completely and put it in park. He turned to face her. "Never," he replied, forcefully. "I don't think you could ever disappoint me. To disappoint me, you'd have to give up – on a case, on yourself, on me – and you've never done that. You never would do that. What made you ask?"

"Sometimes I feel that when I provide my rationale for something – like your cosmic set-up – my response disappoints you."

He was surprised at her perception, but pleased that it had happened. "Sometimes I'm disappointed because it seems like you can't accept that good things can happen for no rhyme or reason. I'm afraid that keeps you from experiencing these good things. But I'm not disappointed in you. I'm disappointed _for_ you – because I only want for you to have good in your life. I want you to take advantage of every opportunity to make you smile. I want you to have days, months, years, that don't connect to any sadness. I want you to have experiences, like tonight, that give you only happy memories. I know the only time you believe you can achieve perfection is on a limited scale – SAT scores, 100 on a test, 206 bones in a body – but that doesn't mean we can't still strive for perfection. You take these huge risks to save my life, or capture a criminal, but you won't take small risks to improve your happiness. Tonight you did. You took a small risk of boredom and said 'I'll take my chances' and came with me anyway. And tonight was near perfection, wasn't it?"

Stymied by Booth's emphatic speech, it took her a minute to respond. "Yes… tonight really was perfect." She paused, thinking. "It has given me many happy memories."

Booth smiled, satisfied, and turned the key in the ignition.

The drive home was silent. Booth was surprised that once he started talking, the words just continued to come. He had wanted to tell her that for some time – wanted to tell her even more. He knew she didn't see the bigger picture behind what he shared. Someone who wanted for her what he wanted for her… wanted her. For him.

Brennan's mind was a tangle of words: happiness, memories, Booth, chance, set-up, perfection, Booth, risk, want, sadness, Booth.

He pulled into her lot and put the car into park. Brennan made no move to exit.

"Want me to walk you up?" Booth asked, misinterpreting her silence.

She shook her head. She unbuckled her belt and turned to face him. "I've been thinking about what you said. Four years ago, I would have said I had few happy memories. Now, I have many, and I'm not just talking about tonight. I have a little Smurf and a little pig, I have inside jokes about pie, I have a wonderful man and his little boy lighting a Christmas tree in the snow." She paused. "I have my father. I have a family." She paused again, smiling, and saw Booth's reflection mirror her own. She reached out and placed her hand on top of his, realizing how natural the movement felt, how years ago she had to train herself to even think of doing such a gesture. "I still have many sad memories. But for the first time in my life, I have more happy memories than sad. And that is _all_ because of you." Her eyes examined his expression. She could see he was affected by what she said. She let out a deep breath. _Take a risk, right? That's what he said._

She drew her left leg up, resting it on the seat so she could turn and fully face him.. She reached out and touched his cheek. He looked unsure – unsure of his emotions, of hers, of what was coming next.

Her words were barely above a whisper. "You make me happy. Being with you makes me happy."

His hand joined hers and he linked their fingers. His smile seemed to come from his heart and envelop his entire face. "I was wrong earlier," he said, reaching for her with his other hand, longing for more of a physical connection. He rested his arm on her hip, his hand flattening against her back. "This evening _was_ near perfect. Now I think we've reached perfection."

Smiling, Brennan shook her head. "No."

"No?"

Her response was to close the space between them, Booth's arm sliding along her back to wrap around her waist. His other hand remained linked with hers, curled up by their hearts. She brought her lips gently to his, urging his apart, seeking permission, seeking home. The kiss was slow and luxurious. It held none of the fevered panic from the last time they kissed, or any of the awkwardness from their mistletoe kiss. It was sweet, and deep, and emotional.

It was her way of showing him she knew there was something more between them, but she hadn't yet found the words to tell him. Or the understanding of what it all meant.

But, it was wonderful, and when Brennan closed her eyes that night, her final thought before sleep claimed her was that she had her first, perfect memory.


	6. All that I wanted was to hold you

**A/N:** This chapter brings in a crossover. I love writing male friendships, I don't think there are enough of them on TV, so I gave Booth a friend in this chapter, a guy named Jack from a show now off the air called _Sue Thomas F.B.Eye._ The show was anything from wildly popular, but I enjoyed it... Anyway, I hope you enjoy what I wrote here and I appreciate your patience with updates.

Muchas gracias to Carrie for editing. And for just being you.

* * *

Her skin was impossibly soft. The few touches he had experienced were nothing in comparison to the landscape of her entire body. He was free to explore every inch with his hands, his lips, his tongue. She was responsive to even minute contact, arching her back, begging for him without words. He inched closer and closer to her most sensitive area and just before contact he looked up, connecting his eyes with hers. Her mouth opened, and to his surprise, she sang, "It's been one week since you looked at me, cocked your head to the side and said I'm angry."

Booth rolled over and slammed his palm onto the snooze button with such force the clock radio dug a scratch into the night stand.

Dreams of Brennan now filled his nights and crept into his mornings. Years of military training seemed to disappear and his up-and-alert before the alarm mentality had turned into five more minutes of believing she was in his arms.

Music blared again, warning Booth another nine minutes had passed. Groaning, he flipped the alarm off and climbed out of bed, heading for what was becoming a ritual cold shower. If he didn't get some release soon – release of the female variety – before long he would be bathing in ice cubes.

He somehow managed to arrive at the office on time and choked down a scalding cup of coffee.

"So, who is she?" a familiar voice asked.

Booth turned and looked at fellow agent and friend Jack Hudson. "Huh?" was as coherent a reply as he could formulate.

Jack chuckled. "You look like hell. I figured you had a new girlfriend keeping you up nights."

"I wish." Booth's gaze lost focus as he wondered if there would ever be a day Bones would be his girlfriend. He shook his head and returned to the moment, refilling his mug.

Jack watched his friend's expression with interest. "You okay, Seel?"

Booth sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine." Jack didn't look convinced so Booth continued, hoping to change the subject. "Speaking of girlfriends… How's Sue?"

"Not my girlfriend anymore," Jack replied, a huge smile on his face.

Booth looked confused. "I thought…"

"We're getting married!" Jack interrupted.

"That's great!" Booth laughed and shook Jack's hand.

More employees filled the break room in search of their morning caffeine. Jack turned to Booth. "Look, can we head to your office? I'd like to talk in private."

Booth nodded and they made the short walk down the hall. Booth sat at his desk and Jack relaxed in a chair across from him.

"I was wondering what was bringing you to this floor. I don't do much for anti-terrorism anymore," Booth began.

"Strictly personal visit," Jack explained. "I wanted to tell you about the engagement, of course. We're looking at May for the wedding. Bobby'll be best man, Myles and D are groomsman, and I'm looking for a fourth. What do you say? Sue and I would love it."

"I'd be honored," Booth replied, standing and walking around the front of his desk to give Jack a hug. In the back of his brain, he wondered if the "always a bridesmaid" adage applied to groomsmen.

"Details forthcoming," Jack continued, oblivious to Booth's concerns, "but I wanted to ask my guys. Sue has Lucy and Tara, and two other friends, Sarah and Carrie. You'll probably be paired with Carrie. She's really great."

"I'm just happy to be a part of it." Booth sat back down. After a moment, his smile faded and a pensive look took over his face.

"Sure you don't want to talk about something? Thanks to Sue I'm getting good at reading body language."

"I do have a technical question, I guess."

"As long as it's not where babies come from."

"Got that covered," Booth grinned. "You and Sue still working together?" Jack nodded. "How did you arrange that? I mean, you were partners."

"Technically, we worked on the same _team_. We were often paired together, but not assigned to each other. I could have paired with Bobby or Myles on any given day."

"So FBI regs don't matter if you're on the same team?"

"Oh, no, they do. Sue and I couldn't date and definitely couldn't get married if we were on the same team."

"Well, you're still here. And I heard nothing about Sue quitting…"

"The nice thing about bureaucracy is that it rarely hits every angle. There's always a loophole. Through some creative legwork by Ted and D, I got promoted and moved to a different area. I'm now FBI liaison to the NSA… working on anti-terrorism." Jack grinned proudly.

Booth smiled. "So you still get to work with your old team, but technically are no longer a member."

"Yep," Jack beamed. "It's not 24/7 like it used to be, but its close. Sue and I were both ready to resign, so we were thrilled this was an option. Neither of us really wanted to leave, but we wanted to be together more."

"So, hypothetically…" Booth began, slowly, "if an agent's partner was in a different division or organization, even, the regs wouldn't apply?"

"I don't think there are many cases like that. Usually agents are paired with agents in their division and are rarely paired with someone non-FBI." Jack paused, the light dawning. "Wait a minute! You're paired with that Dr. Brennan from the Jeffersonian. Booth, do you have a thing for your partner? I know you haven't dated in a while, but I also know how busy your caseload has been. Is this the real reason?"

"I believe I asked my question hypothetically," Booth muttered.

"Ha! You do! You want the good doctor!"

Booth rubbed at his face. "I was just checking policy."

"Seel… Come on. You were one of the few I told about Sue."

"I'm just… not comfortable with it yet," Booth tried to explain. He stood and began pacing. Jack's eyes followed. "We spend a lot of time together, even outside of work. And like you said, I haven't been dating, and she hasn't either, not seriously, anyway, and then a couple of weeks ago we had a really terrible, horrific day and I kissed her."

"Whoa." Jack said. "Wait, terrible horrific day _because_ you kissed her?"

"No, the day was awful before that happened. I tried to chalk the kiss up to stress, that we needed to get our emotions out somehow, needed something nice to happen. But it was more than that… And when I took her home that night, I kissed her again."

"Did she reciprocate?"

Booth nodded. "But she pulled back first. She's afraid. Everyone in her life who loves her leaves her. And no matter how hard I try to convince her otherwise, I know a part of her believes that I will leave her one day, too."

"Do you realize what you just said?" Jack asked, a small smile on his face. He remembered being in the same position as Booth less than a year ago. Booth looked confused. "You said 'everyone in her life who loves her leaves her'. That, to me, says you're counting yourself in the list of people who love her. Do you love her?"

Booth stopped his walking tour of his office. "What?"

"Are you in love with your partner?"

The voice in his head screamed a resounding "Yes!" He knew he loved her. He had admitted it to himself before. Debated the moment it had happened. What was holding him back from saying it out loud? He opened his mouth as if to speak, but the most he could bring himself to do was nod.

"This is serious. Does she feel the same?"

"Bones doesn't believe in love."

"Are you sure about that?"

The question filled the air like a cloud and Booth felt his vision blur. For a moment, he could see nothing in front of him, then in the distance stood Temperance Brennan in all her glory. Booth blinked and his vision cleared and he realized Bones was at his door, eyeing him with that same expression she used when examining a skeleton.

"Is this a bad time?"

Jack spun around and grinned widely. One look at Booth confirmed the woman's identity. "Not at all," he said, standing. "I was just getting ready to leave."

Booth finally pulled himself together and stood. "Agent Jack Hudson, this is my partner, Dr. Temperance Brennan."

Jack shook her hand. "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Brennan looked to Booth. "Jack and I used to work together. We're still good friends," Booth explained.

"So good," Jack said, patting Booth on the back, "I just asked him to be a groomsman in my wedding, so keep May open. Booth's going to need a date."

"I'm sure Booth has many prospects from which to choose," Brennan replied, thinking how little she knew of Booth's life before they started working together.

"Aw, you know you're always number one to me, Bones," Booth responded, seeming to have found himself again.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Right. Guess the belt-buckle advertising isn't working." She deadpanned. Today's had flames on it surrounding the word "hot".

Jack burst out laughing. He turned to Booth and gestured slowly, but not slow enough for Booth who was far less skilled in the arts of sign language.

"What? All I caught was 'beautiful'?"

"He said, 'She's beautiful and smart. Definitely the one.'"

Jack looked at her in surprise. "You know sign language?"

"_Yes_," Brennan signed. "_I took a class during some down time in graduate school. You_?"

"_My fiancée is Deaf. She's an astonishing lip reader and speaks extremely well, but she prefers to sign at home_."

Brennan nodded.

"Okay, what was just said?" Booth asked.

Brennan gave him a brief summary before Jack spoke up.

"My team's going to think I abandoned them, especially Sue, if I don't get down there. Thanks for being my groomsman."

"Thanks for asking. And thanks for the lesson in FBI regulations," Booth replied with a wry grin.

"It was lovely to meet you Dr. Brennan. I'm sure we'll be seeing you at the wedding if not before."

Brennan ignored the assumption she'd be Booth's date at an event ten months in the future. "I'd love to meet your fiancée some time. It sounds like Sue's on your team? She's FBI?"

"Yeah," Jack replied. "Her lip-reading is the best form of surveillance the FBI has." Pride shown in his voice.

Brennan nodded in interest. "I'm very interested in the anthropological differences between deaf and Deaf communities. And I'd love to hear about her work for the FBI."

"I'm sure she'd love to meet you. I'll set something up with Seel. A double date."

Jack hid an amused smile as he watched Brennan flush. "That would be nice."

Jack headed to leave, but paused at the door. "Seel… just remember. There's always a loophole."

Booth smiled weakly and Brennan frowned. "What was that all about? It seems Agent Hudson feels I'm beautiful and smart, assuming he was talking about me, but what's all this 'she's the one' business? And what about a loophole? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Booth sighed. "We were just talking about FBI stuff. Regulations."

Brennan didn't buy his answer, but didn't push. Something was going on here and she needed Jack and Booth and probably Jack's fiancée to get the whole truth.

"Not that I mind the visit, but why are you here?"

"We're meeting Karen for dinner tonight."

"What?" he grinned, "You just assume my schedule is open and I'm willing to go?"

"Now you know how it feels," Brennan replied, trying and failing to sound serious. She handed Booth the reservation card.

"This says for four. Who's the…" He stopped and eyed her warily. She leveled her eyes at him. "No, really?"

"My father can be great company. Besides, it's not a date. It's just dinner with friends."

He grinned. "What time should I pick you up?"

"6:30." She turned and left without another word, leaving Booth feeling that for each non-date he went on with Brennan, the next turned out to be more date-like. He wondered what that meant for this evening.

He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head and staring out at the city. He loved her, and for a while, only that thought permeated his mind.

Having left Booth with not one, but two double dates on her agenda, Brennan was lost. Emotionally lost. How had events that never held a modicum of romance suddenly become dates? She had been considering inviting Booth to this "swanky", as her editor put it, party being thrown by her publisher, but now… it would be what? Date 3? 4? 5? Her relationship with Booth was quickly becoming the longest she'd never been in.

It was a lot easier when being partners meant _being partners_. She now found herself over-analyzing the phrase. Maybe she should ask Booth to refer to her as an associate or consultant. Only she knew their being partners was important to him. He'd think she didn't want to be partners any more and he would be hurt. She smiled slightly. She was assessing Booth's feelings and taking them into consideration instead of just blurting something out. Maybe she had learned a lesson or two from Sweets. Not that she'd let him know that.

She had returned to her office and was sitting at her desk as she pondered all of this. Her door was shut and music was playing – a sure sign she wanted to be left alone.

As her thoughts focused, the music became a backdrop, muted tones formed the symphony of her day dreams.

She didn't believe in love. She didn't believe in long-term relationships or monogamy or marriage or happily ever after.

Booth did. And sometimes when he looked at her or said something to her…

"_You really think I'm special?"_

"_Of course I think you're special. Yes!"_

"_There is someone for everyone, someone you're meant to spend the rest of your life with, alright; you just have to be open enough to see it, that's all."_

She felt a tug at her heart, an unfamiliar feeling – like a muscle strained years ago that had lay dormant until that very moment. Booth would call it her soul. She called it… a mild case of costochondritis. Everything could be boiled down to a scientific explanation: the origin of man, the origin of the universe, even love. But – and the "but" in her head sounded oddly like her mother's voice – but what if there was more? More than pheromones and hormones and adrenaline. What if she just hadn't experienced it yet? Wasn't open to it, as Booth said? Or hadn't encountered it in so long she couldn't recognize it?

If she stopped to calculate, the moment she even started considering Booth as anything other than a partner and friend was at Angela and Hodgins wedding when they were left at the altar gazing up at the minister.

She remembered reading a book once about mirror neurons. Mirror neurons are found in the brain and enable humans to do anything from recognizing the final goal of eating when watching someone pick up and apple and bring it to their mouth, to showing empathy. Mirror neurons cause people to cry at what Angela calls "chick flicks" and cause hearts to race when a couple kisses on screen. They relate what happens to others to your own personal experiences.

Maybe memories from the church caused her mirror neurons to fire when she saw Booth, recalling the emotions of that day when he told her, her father had stayed. There was a chance, in that moment as they hugged, that she felt love for him.

She sat back in her chair, reflecting on her thoughts and the music in the room came back into focus. She recognized the vocals of Jon McLaughlin…

"We're so close to reaching that famous happy end, almost believing this was not pretend… Let's go on dreaming for we know we are… so close, so close and still so far."

She sighed, picked up the remote and clicked to the next CD.

"That, I know for sure. Dreams don't come true," she said for no reason other than her own benefit.

Tuvan throat singers filled the air as she picked up a case file of a skeleton circa 1707 that had been found in North Dakota. It was back to business as usual.


	7. So close and still so far

**A/N:** I apologize, again, for the delay in posting... It's a combination of lack of creativity, ridiculous fatigue, stupid wrists that hurt, and, what's that other one? Oh, yeah, procrastination. Anyway, here's chapter 7. It was edited, as always, by Carrie. She is amazing. Really, you should all bow down and worship her. Right now. Are you bowing yet? A note on timeline (as brought to my attention by Carrie...): this story takes place before, or in ignorance of, really, the Hodgins/Angela breakup. I promise the next chapter is already started. I'm just struggling through it and am hoping Carrie will be able to provide some assistance. I originally meant for this chapter to be longer, but I figured it was better to post something now then wait until who knows when for the next part.

A HUGE thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. It really, really does mean the world to me. I do my best to reply to each of you individually, so if you haven't heard yet, I apologize and hope to respond soon.

* * *

So close and still so far

Of course Angela would be the first to notice. And the first to bring it up.

"Sweetie?"

Brennan's head popped up from the paperwork on her desk. "Yes, Angela? Make it quick. I have dinner plans and need to leave soon."

Angela eyed her friend thoroughly. She certainly didn't look like she was hiding something, though she rarely did. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"No." Brennan's eye's returned to her paperwork. She had an hour and a half to finish work, get home, and get ready.

"You're not lying, are you?"

Brennan's head popped up again. "What? Lying about what? Angela, I don't lie to you." She sounded exasperated and heavily moved a pile of case files.

"Booth just left here."

"Yeah. He managed to leave work on time," she said, pointedly.

"And when he left here," Angela continued, ignoring her, "he kissed you."

Brennan froze. "No he didn't."

"Yes, he did."

"No, he _didn't_. I'd distinctly remember if he kissed me."

"Maybe it wasn't a _kiss_ kiss," Angela said, draping herself over a chair, "but it was at least a cheek kiss."

Brennan, prepared for a defense, was not expecting this. She paused, and that's all it took.

"He did! He did kiss you!" Angela squealed.

"It's possible he gave me a brief kiss in parting."

"Since when does Booth, a man you vehemently deny is anything other than your partner and friend, give you a 'brief kiss in parting'?"

It certainly was a valid question. When had that started? Their relationship had definitely shifted over the last few weeks, but… She wondered if Booth realized what he'd done so seemingly naturally and she was terrified it was so natural to her that she hadn't even acknowledged the kiss to be something of notice. It was like… they were together. Romantically. Her head sunk into her hands.

Angela watched her friend's transformation with interest. She knew Brennan processed her emotions with the same clinical consideration she used to examine evidence. It was obvious she had introduced an idea that Brennan had not yet discovered.

"Sweetie… I'd know if you and Booth were sleeping together." Brennan jerked upright, eyes wide. "Come on, you know you couldn't hide that from me. So I know that you haven't gone there yet."

"No, we haven't!" Brennan confirmed, unnecessarily, ignoring the "yet" in Angela's speech and feeling the need to say something, anything that would explain what she, herself, didn't understand. "It's much more serious than that."

"More serious than sex?"

"You know I view sex as a fulfillment of biological needs. If I chose to fulfill those needs with Booth, it would be easier than this." She exhaled heavily. "It's like… we're almost… from the outside, observationally, it would appear we were in a relationship. Dating."

Angela fought down a smile. She didn't bother suppressing the look of mild shock. She had always expected the sexual chemistry between the partners would lead to a night of near-spontaneous combustion in the bedroom. She hadn't expected a relationship to come first. And it appeared Brennan hadn't, either.

"Okay, maybe it would be good if you filled me in on the details," Angela said carefully, wanting to know more, but not wanting to scare Brennan into silence.

Brennan stood and Angela followed as they settled themselves on the couch for some girl talk.

And talk Brennan did, starting with the stairwell kiss, which, as predicted, Hodgins had already told Angela. She continued on to their kiss later that night, the early morning weekend visit, the dreams that had only increased in intensity, the hockey game, meeting Jack Hudson, and the assumption she'd be Booth's date at the wedding.

Angela listened calmly, keeping her expression supportive, while inwardly cheering Booth. He had managed to draw Brennan into a relationship without her having any idea it was happening. Until now.

Brennan finally paused in her story telling and Angela thought hard about what she would say. It had to be something that wouldn't scare Brennan, that would let her know everything was fine, and that she should let what was happening run its course. She had to appeal to her logically. She smiled.

"Are you happy?"

"What?" Brennan furrowed her brow in confusion.

"In general, these past few weeks, even with everything that's happened, would you say you've been happy?"

Brennan paused, turning the question over in her mind. "There have been some difficult moments, but, in general, yes, I have been happy." She wondered what Angela was trying to get at.

"Would you say that Booth has contributed to your happiness?"

Oh, she really didn't want to answer that one. She sighed. "Yes," she replied in a small voice.

Angela smiled. "What was that?"

"Yes! Booth makes me happy." What had happened to her? In the span of a few days, independent, self-sufficient Temperance Brennan had admitted to Booth and now Angela the role he played in her happiness.

"Well, then logically, wouldn't you say whatever is happening between you and Booth has had a positive impact on your life?"

Damn Angela for bringing logic into it. "So far," she replied, knowing her pessimism would irk her friend. But Angela continued to smile.

"Then, at this point, there's no reason to not let what's happening continue to happen. All relationships come with an inherent form of risk, but, it's Booth, Sweetie. You know he'd never hurt you, he'd never cheat on you, he'd never join a cult or murder his brother…"

Brennan glared as Angela brought up her failed attempts at relationships.

"I'm just saying, some guys are total jerks. And some guys are worth the risk. I mean, look at me and Jack. Would you ever have predicted that one? You and Booth, though? In the works from day one. He is definitely worth you taking a risk."

Brennan pondered this for a moment, recalling her conversation with Booth in which he said the same thing to her. That some things are worth the risk. He had referred to her attending the hockey game, but had he had their relationship in mind as well? Were Angela and Booth privy to some secret book on risk in relationships? How did they know this stuff?

She shrugged her thoughts away, giving Angela a hug. "Thank you." She glanced at her watch and jumped up. "I have to go. Booth and I are having dinner with my dad and a friend."

"Like a double-date?" Angela smirked.

"Like a dinner with friends." Brennan deadpanned.

Angela rolled her eyes at her friend's stubbornness. She headed for the door, but stopped short and turned around.

"Bren?"

"Yeah?" she replied, looking up from her desk and she tried to quickly clean up.

"You said something earlier… You do know that it could never just be sex with Booth, right? Not with you."

Something between fear and hope flitted across Brennan's face. She nodded, slowly. "Yeah, I know."

"And you know that's a good thing?" Angela smiled.

"That, I'm still rationalizing.

--

"Max."

"Booth."

"She still getting ready?" Booth asked, gesturing toward the bedroom.

"Yeah. Got home late from work, mumbling something about Angela and sex. Frankly, I didn't want any more details. Beer?"

Booth nodded, mind spinning over what conversation with Angela had made Brennan late getting home from work. He took a sip of the beer Max handed him and headed for the couch. Max sat in a chair across from him.

"So tell me about this Karen. It's not like my daughter to try and set me up."

Booth grinned. "She's not setting you up. I don't think her mind works that way. She sees two people about the same age who are without spouses and figures they could be friends."

"If you say so." Max still couldn't believe he had agreed to this dinner. He knew a large part of it was just to please his daughter. A smaller part of it was to take advantage of the opportunity to see Booth and Temperance in a non-work-related situation. He may have moved out of his daughter's apartment, but he wasn't blind.

"We don't know Karen all that well, but she's really sweet. She seems like a good person who is still struggling with the loss of her husband. I don't think she has that many distractions."

"How long ago did he die?"

"Three months."

"Well, no wonder she's still struggling. It takes time to overcome a loss like that. You never really do, not entirely." Max's face went blank as he got lost in thought and Booth knew he was thinking of his wife.

Booth took a long draught on his beer but when he finished his mouth felt barren. The correlation between that and the appearance of Temperance Brennan was not lost on him.

She had emerged from the hallway into the living room, brushing invisible lint of the skirt of her dress. "How do I look?" she asked, seemingly blind to her own beauty.

"You look lovely, sweetheart," Max responded, drawing his eyes from his daughter to Booth, who was practically drooling at the sight of her. He stifled a laugh.

Brennan turned to Booth, looking for his opinion and the pulse of electricity that flew between them was as detectable as lightning.

"Is that the Vegas…" Booth stuttered, trying to force himself not to completely ogle her in front of her father. He knew from experience Max could punch, and punch well.

"Yeah," Brennan responded, feeling herself blushing as she pulled an aqua-colored jacket over top the dress, attempting to raise her level of modesty. She had no explanation for why, among the many dresses in her closet, she picked that one. If she believed in such things, she would say it had drawn her to it. Hell, a part of her was hoping she would get exactly the reaction she had received from Booth.

"You look beautiful," he finally said, standing, but not trusting himself to move any closer to her.

"Someone want to fill me in?" Max asked, dramatically crossing his arms.

Two sets of eyes turned to him with equally confused stares. "Fill you in on what?" his daughter responded.

"What's going on with the two of you. I moved out three weeks ago and, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were…" Brennan's eyes widened and brows rose with such astonishing speed Max immediately censored himself. "Dating."

A small smile crested Booth's lips while Brennan looked exasperated. "Well, we're not," she replied.

She picked up her purse and headed for the door. Booth followed closely behind, his hand seeking solace in the small of her back and pressing a quick kiss on her cheek.

Max shut the door behind them, shaking his head as he trailed behind. "The hell you're not."


	8. If I should lose you now

**A/N:** Okay, I finally got the dinner scene done. Thank you all for your patience, and thank you to everyone for the reviews, especially CSI-4077, Aching Bones, and all those who review each chapter. I really appreciate it!

Muchas gracias, as always, to my Carrie-Bear for editing and for providing such great feedback and inspiration. She really helped me get this chapter going.

There's a lot of Max in this chapter, and I filled in the history explained via what's happened on the show and my own imagination.

Bones' reactions and actions in this chapter are really a result of a pet peeve of mine… I don't think the show has delved enough into the whole Brennan Family Bank Robbers thing and how the Keenan's got into it all. Bones' frustration may be misdirected, but it's purposeful.

Okay, enough ranting. Little Laura's been having a rough time of it lately, so I have no idea when the next chapter is coming. And expect a little more darkness/angst. That seems to be where my brain lives these days.

* * *

Booth's mind rarely veered from one thought during the drive to the restaurant. _Why did she have to wear __**that**__ dress?_

When he wasn't focusing on curves revealed by the tight black fabric, or recalling the first time he zipped her into that dress and thinking about how easily he could unzip her out of it… he noticed Brennan seemed quiet.

She sat in the back, having insisted Max take the place beside Booth, and responded to her father's casual inquiries with one and two word answers.

"Well, if this keeps up, it's going to be one fun evening," Max finally said.

Booth glanced in the rearview mirror. Brennan was looking out the window, lost in thought. She turned her head slowly, realizing her father had said something and her eyes connected with Booth's in the reflection. She quickly looked away.

Now all Booth could think was, _What the hell is going on?_

"I'm sorry, Dad, did you say something?" she spoke, softly, eyes on the passing landscape.

"You seem a little distracted. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Max turned to Booth. "A man's worst nightmare, those two little words."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brennan sat up, ready for battle.

"It's just that when women say 'I'm fine' it usually means the opposite. And men are dense, sweetheart. We know you mean something else, but have no idea what it could possibly be. Many a man has found himself drawn into the battleground over those words. Some say it's the real reason behind the American Revolution."

Booth chuckled, but Brennan just crossed her arms. "Sometimes 'I'm fine' just means 'I'm fine'," she spat, her tone in direct opposition to her words.

Booth maneuvered the car into a parking spot at the restaurant. "Can we all agree to call a truce? For Karen's benefit, at least?"

Brennan opened the car door. "There's no need. Everything is _fine_." She slammed the door and Max and Booth shared a look.

"You know that saying 'patience is a virtue'?" Max asked. Booth nodded. "Sometimes I think my daughter originated the need for that phrase." He grinned and Booth smiled in return, but couldn't help but wonder if he had done something to upset Brennan. His mind replayed the evening and came up empty. Eventually, he gave up and followed the father and daughter into the restaurant.

As they walked to the table, Booth placed his hand on Brennan's back, but she pulled away and increased her pace. She chanced a glance at Booth and immediately regretted it, hurt and confusion written all over his face. She felt tears prick at her eyes, but she blinked them away. How had she let this situation get so out of control?

A much needed distraction arrived moments later in the form of Karen who brought with her the air of spring and a wide smile. She hugged Booth first, then Brennan, then shook hands with Max as he introduced himself.

"So," Karen began as they were all seated, "how is everyone?" She placed her napkin in her lap and met the eyes of the three sitting around the table, immediately sensing the tension. "That good," she replied to the silence with a smirk. "Well, I'm here now. 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.'"

"Amen," Booth replied reflexively, crossing himself. Max laughed, Karen smiled, and Brennan eyed him with confusion.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"Look, I've been a Catholic for 38 years. Someone says a prayer, you say 'amen' and make the sign of the cross."

"Why?"

Not wanting to get into a heated debate, Booth responded sternly. "Because." She looked ready to speak but Booth put a finger to her lips. "Because it's the way things are done. You don't question why the body has 206 bones, do you? Or why the ulna is called the ulna? Just go with it."

Brennan wanted to protest but found she was far too distracted by the feel of Booth's skin on her lips. Suddenly, her thoughts came back to her and she pulled away suddenly and turned her attention to Karen. "I've been well. How are you?"

Karen shrugged. "Okay. I've been enjoying time with my grandchildren. Nothing makes you feel so young – or old – as grandchildren."

Max smiled. "My son, Russ, has two girls. They're his fiancée's, but once they're married, he's going to adopt them. Really sweet kids who've been through a lot in their lives."

"The littlest one has cystic fibrosis," Booth explained.

"Oh, how sad."

"But she's doing okay," Booth continued. "Bones got her connected with the best doctor in the area, and with any hope she'll live a long, happy life."

"And Russ has turned out to be a great father," Brennan added.

"You're surprised by this?" Karen asked.

Brennan and her father laughed. "He's not exactly always been the most responsible person in the world," Max shared.

"Being a parent makes you grow up. Fast." Booth draped his arm on the back of Brennan's chair and was pleased when she didn't push him away.

"You don't want children, Temperance?"

Brennan's thoughts flashed to Andy. To Booth. _"How's our boy doing?"_ She cleared her throat, aware the table was awaiting her answer, Booth's eyes glued to her, eyebrows slightly quirked that an immediate "no" hadn't been said.

"I use precautions," Brennan began, slowly, "but if I were to become pregnant, I would keep the baby, though I'm not sure how wonderful of a mother I'd be."

"You'd be great, Bones," Booth grinned. "You were great with Andy."

"Fostering a child for a few days as part of a case isn't the same thing as being a full-time parent. I never babysat. I have very little experience with children. And I don't have a mother to help guide me through the process." Booth recognized a bitterness enter her tone and had a feeling this conversation was headed in a bad direction.

"Well, you'd have me," Max offered.

"You're not exactly the most responsible person in the world either, Dad."

_Very, very bad_, thought Booth. It was something in the way she nearly spit the word "dad". He glanced at Karen who looked rather perplexed, then at Max and saw the hurt in his eyes. Max Brennan may not be his favorite person, but he seemed to have a valid reason for leaving his children all those years ago, and he did come back – risking the death penalty – to prove his love and commitment to his daughter.

"I thought we'd worked through all of this, Temperance," Max replied, sounding tired.

"Don't you mean 'Joy'?"

Booth looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Bones, I don't think this is the time…"

"I don't think you have any right to dictate what I say or do. Just because we've kissed a couple times doesn't mean anything has changed." Brennan refused to meet his gaze, knowing there would be hurt there.

He recoiled as if hit. "I wasn't trying to imply that. We're supposed to be having a nice dinner with Karen. Bringing up your family history now isn't…"

"Family history? The Brennan's… Keenan's…" she stumbled over her words and felt her eyes burn with tears unshed. "We don't have a family history. We have a criminal history." She drew her eyes from her father to Karen. "He killed my mother, you know that?"

"Bones!" Booth exclaimed.

"What?" she snapped back.

Max remained silent.

"He didn't kill your mother. McVicar killed your mother," Booth continued.

"They were together, Mom, and Dad, and McVicar. Mom and Dad were supposed to be at home, with me and Russ. But they were with that… that bastard." Tears began to fall and she made no move to wipe them away. "How is it, Dad, that you escaped without a scratch and Mom ended up with a subdural hematoma that killed her? Even McVicar lived! Continued to live for fifteen years after my mother died!"

Booth reached for her hand, but she yanked it away. "Don't." Brennan stood and without a glance at the table stalked out of the restaurant.

There were a few moments of shocked silence before Booth dared to speak. "Max…"

"She's right, you know." Max said, softly. "It is my fault her mother died. I didn't kill her, but my association with McVicar caused her death."

"I saw the scars. I saw the damage you did to him. I know you tried everything you could to keep Christine safe." Booth paused, gathering his thoughts. "I know we don't always see eye-to-eye, Max. But if I had been in your situation, I don't know that I would have done anything different. If leaving my son was the only viable option for keeping him safe, I'd do it."

Max smiled sadly. "The difference, Booth, is that you'd never be in my situation. You're one of the good guys, remember? I'm the bad guy."

"I don't know the whole story, but I don't believe you're a bad person, Max. I think you made some bad decisions."

"Thank you for that." Max offered Booth a small smile, before retreating to his thoughts.

"Seeley, honey, I think you need to go after Temperance," Karen finally spoke up.

"She made it pretty clear she doesn't want my company right now." But he was already standing, his gaze to the door.

"Go," she reiterated. "She needs you, even if she doesn't want to admit it."

Booth looked to Max who nodded in response. "Max, you may want to get a cab home. I'll make sure Bones gets home safely, but the ride here was tense enough…"

"Don't worry about it. Thanks for taking such good care of my daughter."

"I could do more if only she'd let me," Booth muttered.

Karen stood and gave Booth a warm hug. "She will let you, in time. Have faith."

Booth smiled as he stepped out of her embrace. "I always do."

"I'm sorry you had to be a witness to all of this," Max said, turning to Karen after Booth departed.

"It's okay. It was obvious from the time I came in that something was bothering your daughter. I think she chose you to use as an outlet for her anger."

"And quite effectively, at that," Max sighed.

"I don't know much about your family's past. Tempe told me her mother died, but that was it. What I do know is that the hardest decisions parents have to make are when their children's future is at stake. Whatever happened, I'm sure it wasn't easy – for any of you."

Karen's levelheadedness and sympathy roused Max and brought him back into the present. "Thank you. I'm certain you and Booth have offered me much more kindness than I deserve."

"I don't know about that. I sense that Booth is right – that you're a good man. We all make decisions we regret." Max scoffed. "Some bigger than others," Karen continued, with a smirk.

Max smiled, feeling his spirits lift for the first time since the conversation began. "Well, if you think I'm a good man, you must be perfectly angelic."

Karen laughed. "Hardly. I just do the best that I can. And that's all we can expect from ourselves, even when others hold us to a higher expectation." She reached out and placed a hand on Max's forearm and smiled at him.

Max looked at her hand then at her smiling eyes. He cleared his throat and began. "My wife and I found ourselves involved with a group of less than reputable people. I'm being kind. They were criminals, thugs. When we had Russ and Tempe, we knew we had to get away, so we changed our identities and created new lives for ourselves: lives where we were good people, where we could raise our children well, far away from the mistakes of our past. But the past has a way of catching up to you, and when Christine and I discovered our reason for leaving, our reason for _being _– our children – were in danger, we left. We left 15-year-old Tempe and 19-year-old Russ on their own, because we knew it was the only way, the _only_ way, to keep them safe. If we left, our enemies would follow. And it worked. The kids were safe. Neither of us anticipated…" he sighed heavily and Karen strengthened her grip, urging him to continue. "Russ left Tempe. He was 19. We never should have expected him to act as a parent to her, and at the time, everyone told him it was what was best for her: to be put into the system. So my little girl, my brilliant little girl who could do organic chemistry but had no best friend, was tossed from home to home, place to place, until I found out what was going on. I sent someone, an old friend posing as my father, to get her out of the system and into a home where she could at least have some consistency, even though it was with a stranger. She started college soon after and never looked back."

He sighed. "And then McVicar, the worst of our former cadre, found us…tried to kill Christine. Even though she was hurt badly, I remember thinking we made the right choice leaving the children, because if they had been with us…" he paused, unable to fathom another outcome. "We both just thought Christine had taken a bad hit to the head: that she'd have some nasty headaches for a while, but she'd be okay. A year and a half later, she was dead: brain bleed." Recalling the moment Christine died caused a pain to form in his chest as though it had just happened. "I couldn't go back: couldn't go to Tempe or Russ. They'd have been killed."

"So how are you here now? How did you come back?"

Max smiled wanly. "I should have known my girl wouldn't be able to let our disappearance go to rest. Through her work, she found her mother. Or her team did. We've never really talked about that. She and Booth started looking around, digging for the truth. I'd always kept an eye on her… Russ, too…and I knew they were getting close to the truth. Too close. All three of them, Tempe, Russ, and Booth, were putting themselves in serious danger. I called Tempe, tried to warn her, but it didn't work. I tried to warn her in person. This face," he dragged his hands down his cheeks, "is not the one she knew. The wonders of plastic surgery. But she kept on. Booth kept on. The truth came out. I thought she'd hate me forever, but I knew I had to prove to her that this time, I was here to stay. I wasn't going to abandon her again.

"Booth… Sometimes I think she'd still hate me if it wasn't for Booth. He's the only person in her 33 years on this planet who has never let her down…who has always come back. Angela, too, her friend Angela – but she's a wild one. Booth, he's Tempe's perfect match, although neither will admit it. He opened the door for me, gave her the tools to let me in."

"I'm sure it took a lot to face her again, after all of those years, after knowing everything that had happened," Karen shared.

Max nodded. "Yeah. That's why I went to jail…why I let Booth arrest me." Karen's eyes went wide. "It's… complicated. But I had to do it to prove I wasn't going to leave again. I would rather have spent the rest of my life in jail, or worse, to show her she could depend on me being there. I could have escaped. I could have run. But I didn't. And I don't regret a moment of the time I spent in jail, the ordeal of the trial, the pain it caused her and Booth." Max didn't expand on the last part of the sentence. Burned into his mind were Booth's eyes as he sat on the stand, forced to admit his partner, his best friend, could be a murderer. "But I'm free now, fully acquitted. And I thought my relationship with Tempe was finally in a good place. But I guess not."

"Healing the wounds that your daughter has takes time, Max. And I think something more is going on. I get the impression she doesn't process emotions well. She's obviously uncomfortable with the status of her relationship with Seeley, and she has some outstanding issues with what happened with you and your wife."

Max nodded. "And a few weeks ago, she received some bad news about one of her co-workers. She was his mentor, really, and he got into some trouble and I know that's been hard on her and Booth and their entire team."

"It's no wonder she's lashing out," Karen said. "And whatever is going on between her and Seeley has probably made it difficult for her to talk to him, and it seems to me he's the one she usually talks to, am I right?"

"Yeah. Or Angela, but she doesn't always seem to understand Angela. I think Booth has found a way to make Tempe understand what she needs to understand."

"She's lucky to have him. And he's lucky to have her. You may have only been present for the first 15 years of her life, but they must have been good years. Considering everything she's been through, she's a wonderful person, Max. You're a good father."

Max covered Karen's hand with his own. "I'm sure it was her mother's influence more than mine, but I appreciate the sentiment." They smiled at each other and enjoyed the silence of the moment. "The one thing my daughter definitely inherited from me is my temper."

"That's not necessarily always a bad thing," Karen responded.

"It might be, if your name is Seeley Booth."

* * *

Next chapter... we finally get to see the Booth/Brennan end of things during this discussion.

Please review! Let me know if you like the direction the story is heading...


	9. So close was waiting

**A/N:** I know! I didn't think I'd post any more, either! LOL! I do apologize for the super huge delay in my postings. Life has just been not super nice to me lately. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far and to those of you who offered encouragement for me to continue this story. I do promise I will finish it - I'm just not sure when. I set up a lot of potential sub-plots with Jack/Sue and Max/Karen and I have to decide if I want to let these hang and just end the story sooner... or delve into them and end it later. What do you all think?

Hugs, kisses, love and a Guinness to my CareBear for editing not only this chapter, but the entire story so far. And I forgive you for the nasty name you called me for ending this chapter where I did. :)

* * *

So close was waiting, waiting here for you

"What is your problem?" Booth spat, as he followed Brennan into her apartment. To say the car ride home from the restaurant had been tense was an understatement. The ride was more akin to a miracle – since the vehicle didn't alight from the crackling fury of both parties.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Brennan took off her jacket and draped it on the back of a kitchen chair. She pushed the chair in with force, not paying attention to her actions, and pinched her finger. "Damn it!" Her left hand massaged the injured finger. Booth moved toward her with concern. "Don't. I'm fine. Oh, that's right, I forgot. 'I'm fine' never means _I'm fine_!"

Booth watched in wonder as she turned and stomped into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She sat on the bed, pressing her palms to her eyes willing herself not to cry. She knew she was being unreasonable. She knew she was being unfair. But she also knew she was doing what she had to do. She had to push Booth away. She had to get them back to where they were before. Partners. Friends. Nothing more.

Back in the kitchen, Booth helped himself to a healthy dose of Scotch and fell, more than sat, onto the couch. When he left Brennan's office earlier that evening, everything was fine. They were both looking forward to seeing Karen and enjoying a nice dinner together. Ever since they got into the car, however, Brennan had displayed a near-lethal attitude.

What had he done? What had Max done? Why did Bones pick that moment of all moments to lash out at her father on issues that she had obviously let lay dormant too long? Why did she now seem to have issues with him?

The evening repeated over and over in his head, but just as before dinner, he couldn't come up with a logical explanation for her actions. But then this was Bones. His Bones. And her actions, when relating to emotions, were often far from logical.

It didn't make sense. They had been so close. So close to finally moving forward in their relationship -- moving to a new level. Moving into uncharted territory, Booth realized. Brennan had so few constants in her life, and he knew she relied on him to provide her with some stability, even though she'd never admit to it. Brennan feared change of any kind, undoubtedly more so when that change involved him.

She was pushing him away. Keeping him at a distance, both physically and emotionally. When he thought back to the last few weeks, he'd realized how "couple-y" they had become. They ate at least one meal together nearly every day, sometimes even two. His hand had taken up nearly permanent residence on the small of her back, and he often grazed her cheek with a kiss when they parted. It all seemed so natural to him, but for Bones…

That was it. That must be it. It was too much for her, too overwhelming. He'd realized and accepted the fact that their relationship was becoming less platonic and more romantic. Yes, he'd put the line in place, but he was more than happy to erase it. He just hadn't stopped to consider her feelings in the process. Or to let her know that in his mind, the line was gone. He had plowed forward, assuming business was as usual, when in reality all of the seemingly small changes added up to one big one. They were dating. They were a couple.

He drained his glass and walked to her bedroom, this time entering without knocking. He saw her standing near her closet struggling with the clasp and zipper on her dress.

She gasped when she felt his hands on her skin, unlatching the clasp and lowering the zipper to a level where she could easily finish. She was surprised when she felt disappointment at his stopping before the garment was completely removed.

"If you don't want to talk, that's okay," he said, softly. She made no comment, just stood facing the closet doors, unmoving. "But if you do, I'll be in the living room. I'll stick around for a half hour or so. If you come out and you want to talk, fine. If you just want to stay in here, fine. And I mean that. Either choice is fine."

*~*~*

Booth sat on the couch, 28 minutes later. What if she didn't come out? What if she was done with him? He felt a fluttering in his chest and his throat grew thick and if he didn't know better, he would say those were tears threatening to fall. What if she was done? With him. With their relationship. With everything they had built together. A strange feeling spread through his limbs, almost a coolness, and he fought to swallow. His mind, so caught up in the worst case scenario, finally realized he was in the throes of a panic attack. She couldn't leave him. He wouldn't let her. Even if it meant just being friends. Even if it meant just being _partners_. Any relationship with her was better than none. There was no choice.

As he took deep, steadying breaths, she appeared in the hallway, leaning against the wall. She examined him for a moment, blue eyes taking in every detail, surprised at his appearance. He looked pale, and anxious, and distraught. His legs bounced wildly and every one of his muscles seemed tense, as though he was ready to spring into action at the slightest indication.

When she exited the bedroom, she had an entire speech planned. She was going to tell him that they had to define exactly what was going on, exactly what they were to each other. No more "maybe" dates, no more kisses on the cheek in her office, no more assumptions about anything. She had to compartmentalize, and she couldn't do that without knowing her specific roles and responsibilities. That only made sense, after all. It was completely logical.

But when she saw Booth's face, saw the myriad emotions that displayed there – fear, and worry, and – when their eyes met – was that hope? Her entire speech was gone. She took one, then two steps further, entering the living room. Eyed the empty glass on the table, Booth's mussed hair from one too many passes of a nervous hand, and she couldn't compose a word.

Her arms, crossed, dropped to her sides. His eyes hadn't left her since she appeared and he sat unmoving as he reached into the recesses of his brain to try and anticipate what was coming next. But he couldn't have known, for she hadn't known. She flipped a switch, turned off the logic, and moved closer to him, stopping right before him on the couch. Her arms extended and Booth rose, bringing her to him so not a wisp of air was between them. Brennan nuzzled into his neck and let out a deep breath she didn't even know she was holding. She noticed Booth do the same. They were in tune, together, as always.

Brennan felt her eyes water and she closed them tightly, tired of crying, tired of the emotional rollercoaster she'd built for herself. She lowered her right hand, bringing it to rest over Booth's heart. She felt the heavy thumping and it calmed her. Booth relaxed his grip slightly so he could rub her back. She had changed out of the dress into satiny pajamas that felt impossibly soft and fluid under his fingers.

They both startled when Booth's phone rang. Out of parental habit, he glanced down at the phone, which he'd left lying on the coffee table. The caller ID didn't read Rebecca or Parker. It was Max.

He turned back to look at Brennan. "It's your dad," he said softly. A look of hurt crossed her face and Booth knew she was feeling guilt over their earlier encounter. He reluctantly let her go and picked up the phone.

"You alive?" Max asked, no humor in his tone.

"Yeah." Booth watched Brennan sit on the couch, drawing her knees up to her chest. She eyed him curiously.

"Is Tempe okay?"

"I think so."

"Do you think she wants to talk to me?"

Booth sighed. He doubted Brennan wanted to talk to anyone right now. Her gaze had moved from Booth to the empty space in front of her as she propped her head on her knees. "No. Not yet, anyway."

"Okay," Max replied, unsurprised. "Tell her she can call me when she's ready. Or come see me. And tell her that I love her. Tell her you love her, too."

Booth felt a flush creep into his cheeks and he was glad Brennan's attention was elsewhere. "I'll relay _your_ message."

Max chuckled. "Thanks. Just remember, Booth, that old saying – pile up enough tomorrows and you'll end up with nothing but a lot of empty yesterdays. Put it off long enough and you and my daughter will end up being 100-year-old 'just friends'."

Max ended the call and Booth set his phone down as he sat down next to Brennan. She lifted her head and reclined against the end of the couch. Booth picked up her legs and stretched them across his lap.

"Your dad wanted me to tell you that you can call him or see him when you're ready. I think you two have a lot to work out, but nothing that can't wait." She nodded, her eyes full of thought. "He also told me to tell you he loves you."

Her eyes filled with tears again and she angrily swatted them away. "I'm afraid I'm not very deserving of his love right now."

"Doesn't matter," Booth smiled softly. "A good parent will always love their child. It's as natural as breathing. And it's what gets you through the hard times."

"I don't know how he can be so calm about everything. I accused him of killing my mother! I wouldn't blame him if he never wanted to speak to me again, and here he is, calling an hour later to say he loves me. I don't deserve his kindness. I don't deserve _your _kindness. I hate this… this feeling…" she pressed a hand to her breast bone, her breathing shallow. "This feeling of…"

"Guilt," Booth finished for her, grasping her hand with his own. "It's called guilt. We Catholics are extremely familiar with it. Instilling endless feelings of guilt is actually part of the sacrament of Baptism."

A small smile formed on Brennan's face and she relaxed at his attempt to lighten the mood. She examined the man in front of her; his kind eyes laced with hope, his lips quirked into a grin, his thumb massaging the back of her hand. She felt the heaviness begin to return to her chest.

She had such a history at her father, and while her outburst was uncalled for, they truly did have a lot to work out between them. But Booth… She had been so angry with him just for caring for her, for being so kind to her as he was doing right now. And if she were truly honest, she wasn't even angry with him. She was afraid. She was afraid of how much she needed him, how much she relied on him, how much she wanted him. She recalled her earlier conversation with Angela. Booth made her happy. Why was she allowing her fear to stand in the way of her happiness?

"I'm sorry," she said, surprising Booth who had been waiting for her to speak for some time.

"You don't have to…"

"Wait," she interrupted. "Just let me get this out." Booth nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being short with you, for yelling at you, for pushing you away. I'm so sorry for acting as though our relationship doesn't mean anything to me, because it means _everything_ to me. I'm not trying to make excuses, but you know how much I hate to rely on anyone, let alone to actually admit that I need someone. But I need you, I do. And I don't think it will surprise you to know that needing you scares me. I thought I could just reverse time, metaphorically speaking, of course, and go back to a point where I didn't need you and remove the fear. Instead, I made myself and everyone around me miserable."

Booth waited a moment before responding, not wanting to interrupt again in case she had more to add. He knew how much inner strength it took for Brennan to just admit what she did and he glowed inwardly at her revelation. He found himself grinning widely and found Brennan's expression mirrored his. "So… what you're saying is that without me you're miserable?" The charm smile broke through and then was immediately erased by a pillow to the head and peals of laughter. Booth looked at her in mock horror, only just able to keep his smile from returning. "And here I thought we were having a moment."

Brennan rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "We're not in a romance novel, Booth."

"That, I know. If we were, I'd be bare-chested and you'd be in a long red dress. Possibly one or both of us would be on a horse."

"A horse?"

Booth shrugged. "I guess it sells." He watched as the smile that had never quite left her face faltered and disappeared completely. She suddenly seemed to grow pensive.

"Well…" she began to speak, then seemed unsure of what it was she was trying to say. "I suppose you feel my apology was… acceptable?"

"Yeah, Bones, it was more than acceptable."

"Okay." She paused. "Good."

"Are you alright?"

"What?" She seemed distracted. "Yes. I'm fine." Her eyes were everywhere but on his.

"If there's something else you want to talk about…"

"I just… I mean…" She cleared her throat, frustrated with her sudden inability to speak. "It would appear, based on your actions, that you reciprocate my sentiment, though I wouldn't want to make any assumptions. Logic just seems to follow that…"

Booth stopped her speech by reaching over and cupping her face with his hand. "I need you too, Bones. More than you can possibly imagine."

Her face flushed and she refused to draw her eyes from his until she yawned unexpectedly. "I guess today was pretty draining."

"I should probably go, anyway," Booth said as he moved to stand, picking up his keys and cell phone from the coffee table. Brennan shot up after him, grabbing his hand. He turned to face her, and she noticed his eyes were full of questions.

"I'd like it if you would stay."

Booth nodded, dropping his keys and cell phone back down on to the table. "Sure. I can camp out here if you don't want to be alone."

"I don't want to sleep alone."

Booth's eyes widened and darkened with desire. Not trusting himself to speak, he turned and checked the locks on the door, clicking off the light switches on his route back to her. He followed her in to the bedroom and watched as she gently picked up a squirming t-shirt from the floor. The kitten's head popped out of its confinements and happily licked Brennan's chin.

"Are you sure he won't mind the company?" Booth asked, grinning. He sat on the edge of the bed and began removing his clothes.

"Probably not. I haven't had company since I got him, so I'm not sure. He does like that pillow." She gestured to the opposite side of the bed as she crawled beneath the sheets, depositing Effie on her stomach. "You might end up with a cat on your head."

"I think I'll survive." Having stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, Booth climbed into bed, where he was instantly greeted by a light thump as Effie jumped onto his chest. "Hi," he said to the cat who cocked his head in reply. Booth chuckled and scratched the cat behind his ears, leading to a long and loud bout of purring.

Brennan watched the scene with amusement, the discordance between Booth's bulk and the cat's slight frame bringing a smile to her face. Effie grew playful and began nipping and batting at Booth's fingers.

"Okay, big guy," Booth said, picking the cat up and setting him to his right, "it's bed time."

"You do know cats are nocturnal," Brennan commented drily.

Booth turned onto his side. "That's probably a good thing, because if I rolled on him in the middle of the night and he was asleep, he'd suffocate."

"He knows when to get out of the way." Brennan curled onto her side, facing Booth, feeling magnetically drawn to him. She could feel the warmth of his body across the foot of bed that separated them and closed her eyes, trying to suppress the rising temperature of her own body. How did his mere presence affect her so strongly?

Booth saw the building desire in Brennan's eyes before they closed and didn't hesitate to remove the space between them, wrapping his arms around her as she snuggled against his frame. Her legs intertwined with his and he savored the feeling of her pajama-clad legs against his bare skin.

Neither moved, neither said a word as they melded together. There were many words that needed to be said, many issues to be worked out, but for now, both were content to just be together. To feel the rise and fall of the other's chest, to feel anxious hearts calm and slow. To know, no matter what, they were to be as one.

Or, perhaps, two. Effie, not happy being cast aside, proceeded to climb up Booth's back and, using Brennan's arm as a bridge, cross over to her where he walked down to her hip and sat. He eyed each of them in turn then reversed his route, climbing up to Booth's shoulder and snuffling loudly in his ear.

By this point, Brennan had started giggling at the antics of the kitten. When Effie's cold nose made contact with Booth's ear, he let out a surprised "Hey!" Brennan's laughter grew and Booth soon found himself joining in. The shaking of Booth's shoulders as he laughed frightened the kitten, who jumped down, positioning himself right between the duo's noses.

"Okay, Eff," Booth said, releasing Brennan and picking up the cat, "this isn't going to work." He got out of the bed, found the discarded favorite t-shirt on the floor, and made a little circle of bedding for the cat. He deposited Effie in the middle who looked up at him and mewled pathetically. "I know just how comfortable that shirt is, so no complaining," Booth replied firmly. The kitten, sensing a losing battle, sighed heavily and buried his head in a fold of the shirt. Booth gave the kitten a friendly pat before he climbed back into bed.

Brennan had watched the scene unfold with a grin on her face, amused at the efforts Booth went to to make sure the kitten was comfortable. As he returned to the bed, she turned onto her other side, settling herself under the covers.

Booth hesitated for all of three seconds before spooning himself behind her, draping his arm across her middle and toying with the fabric of the camisole top that resided there. Brennan felt instant heat spread throughout her core at his gentle ministrations, his fingers occasionally brushing the skin of her abdomen.

"What is this fabric?" Booth asked, his voice husky and so near her she could feel his breath on her bare shoulder.

"Silk," she began, surprised she had any voice. "I got them on my last visit to China."

"I like them," he responded, though that fact was obvious to both of them. "Good thing you don't have silk sheets, though. You'd try getting in one side of the bed and would end up sliding out the other," he chuckled.

"I'll remember that," she deadpanned.

"Is this okay? I don't want to crowd your personal space or anything." His voice was serious now, but gentle.

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. "I'm not normally much of a…" she stopped, unsure of the right word.

"Snuggler? Cuddler?" Booth offered.

"Yes. Those. But I have to admit, this is nice."

"Nice" didn't even begin to describe what either of them was feeling. Brennan loved sex, but she also loved her space, and on the rare occasions she shared a bed with a lover, she made it clear a line of demarcation existed. But right now, she was more than happy to stay exactly where she was. Booth was more appreciative of the benefits that came from just holding someone, but no one had fit so perfectly in his arms before.

Booth was actually finding it very difficult to just hold her. The silk beneath his fingers, the silk of her skin seemed to call to him and he knew that if she hadn't noticed his arousal already, she soon would. What would she do if he made the first move? She asked him to stay – however, she asked him to stay to sleep. To deny their sexual chemistry was to deny their very existence, but was now the time? The moment?

Everything seemed so right. For the first time, they had both shared how much they needed each other – on a level far beyond partnership. He made her happy. She made him complete. She'd opened herself up to him physically, letting him hold her even though it went against her usual instincts. He remembered just weeks ago when she wouldn't even let him hug her while they were both lying above the covers of her bed.

Booth decided to take a chance. This was his moment. And soon, it would be hers.

* * *

Okay, so maybe it was a teeny tiny bit evil to end there... but it gives everyone something to anticipate! Please review and let me know what you think of the chapter. And let me know for how much longer you'd like the story to continue!


	10. You're in my arms and all the world is g

**A/N:** A million apologies for the delay in posting. I'm trying to make up for my terribly, terribly looong breaks between postings by giving you a chapter that's twice as long as previous chapters AND full of smut! Finally! To view the M+ rated version (aka the original version) of this story, please visit my website - www(dot)lauradugan(dot)com or visit bonesfiction(dot)com. This chapter is dedicated to Carrie, my fabulous editor who is wonderful beyond words, and to Micki, who came up with several ideas for secrets. Both of these women encouraged my writing and put up with me when I said I was going to deliver... and didn't. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited the story, and/or favorited me. I really appreciate it! I will respond to everyone who gives me a way to respond - it just might take some time. See a trend here?

On a side note, I am NOT a fan of sex words. You know, terms for "those parts". I don't know why, but none of them float my boat, writer-wise. I settled for the least bothersome, from my perspective... but check out the end note to think of how I referred to them internally! I'm not posting them here, because as you read, every time you reach one of those words, you'll crack up. At least I did. But then I'm 12.

* * *

You're in my arms, and all the world is gone

He blinked his eyes in the dark of the bedroom, confused for a moment as to his surroundings. He rolled from his back to his side, his gaze taking in both Brennan's sleeping form and the clock glowing over her shoulder. It was just past midnight. He'd fallen asleep. He had planned to give his Bones the greatest night of her life and fell asleep instead. Some stud he was.

Brennan shifted, rolling onto her back, her arm landing with a thump across his face. Booth groaned, but she didn't stir.

"Bones," he whispered. Nothing. "Bones!" he spoke louder. He heard more than saw her blink, felt her return to consciousness.

"What?" she asked, groggily.

"We fell asleep."

"That's what one typically does when tired and in a bed."

_Right._ She had no knowledge of his plan. "I'm hungry."

"You woke me up from sound sleep to tell me you're hungry?"

He heard amusement mixed with disbelief in her tone. That was good. "I suppose I could just have a Bones snack," he smirked.

"A what?" She pulled herself up on her elbows so she could look closer at him.

She found herself in her previous position seconds later, however, as Booth pushed her back on the pillow, nibbling on her neck. She gasped in surprise as warmth flooded her body. When his hands found their way under her camisole, she shrieked and pushed him away.

"Your hands are freezing!"

Booth chuckled. "Sorry." He grinned sheepishly. "I'm still hungry," he continued, as he closed the space between them again.

Brennan placed her hands on his chest, keeping him at bay. "I have pie."

Booth raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

She nodded. "I had thought we would all come back here after dinner."

"But you don't like pie."

"I don't like _fruit_ pie. I got a chocolate peanut butter pie. It looked like something I'd enjoy."

Booth rolled off her and into a standing position on the floor. He grabbed her hand. "Come on, Bones! Pie!"

Brennan stood, a wary expression on her face. "You know, Booth, it seems to me that you like pie more than you like kissing me." The words were out of her mouth before she realized the potential consequences and her stomach dropped at the predatory gleam in his eyes.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but that only offered Booth easy access as he pressed his lips to hers. His tongue sought hers as he kissed with his entire being, making her feel as though she was being devoured.

A blissful eternity later he pulled back, leaving Brennan slack-jawed and surprisingly wobbly. Any man who could kiss like that most certainly deserved a "cocky" belt buckle. A wave of dizziness hit her and she took a large, gulping breath, thinking, _"Oh, yes, inhale follows exhale."_

Booth savored the moment; the rarity of seeing Temperance Brennan caught completely off-guard was not lost on him. When her breathing steadied and her eyes re-focused, he moved toward her. His voice husky, he said, "You know I always go for seconds."

But Brennan was back. "Pie's in the refrigerator." Booth grinned and draped his arm around her shoulders as they headed into the kitchen.

Brennan took out the pie while Booth grabbed a plate, knife, and fork. He cut a generous slice and set it on the plate, taking a large bite. He murmured appreciatively as the velvety mix of chocolate and peanut butter touched his tongue. "Perfect."

"Where's mine?" Brennan asked, Booth's overjoyed expression preventing her from being too irritated. That, and the prospect of tasting the pie directly from Booth's mouth.

Grinning, he gathered up a forkful of pie and held it to her lips. Just before she opened her mouth, Booth pulled the fork back. She looked at him quizzically. "What?"

"Do you remember what Sweets said pie meant?"

Brows furrowed, she responded, "I seem to recall that, relating to us, he viewed it as a euphemism for sex, but why…" She was interrupted as Booth brought the pie back to her mouth. She took the bite and smiled appreciatively.

"We just ate from the same piece of pie."

"Yes…" Brennan replied, wondering why Booth was stating the obvious.

"So, does that mean we had sex?"

She quickly followed his train of thought, shaking her head at the proud smile on his face that remained even as he ate another large forkful. Brennan covered the pie and returned it to the fridge. She turned back to face Booth and eyed the nearly-empty plate. She scooped up some of the filling with her finger and wiped it on Booth's nose.

"Absolutely not," she finally spoke, leaving him in the kitchen as she returned to the bedroom.

Booth had never imagined those two words could sound so seductive.

~*~*~*~

He dropped the plate into the sink and swiped at his face with a paper towel. He caught his reflection in the window and grinned. God, the woman was irresistible.

She was in bed, curled on her side and facing away from him, by the time he returned to the bedroom. She appeared asleep, unmoving in the stillness of the room. He shrugged out of his undershirt before climbing in beside her.

For Brennan, it was taking all of her strength to maintain a façade of self-control, especially as he slipped under the covers behind her. She kept her breathing slow and even, while just the nearness of him set her heart racing.

She felt wholly consumed by a passion that she had refused to acknowledge for so long. She had carefully defined her relationship with Booth in terms she could quantify, words she could compute: co-worker, partner, friend. Her grasp on her life, her reality, seemed tenuous. She was miles above herself, about to fall. Would he catch her before she hit the ground?

She felt his warm lips on her shoulder. The brief contact – not even a second – sent sparks straight to her core and raised goose bumps on her skin. She heard Booth laugh low and amazingly seductive at the visible reaction to his touch.

His lips brushed her shoulder, traveling to the nape of her neck where he languidly caressed her skin with kisses. She moaned. Encouraged, Booth wrapped his arm around her, bringing it to rest low on her belly, where her skin was warm to the touch. He moved forward so their bodies fit as one.

Other than the small moan, which had broken forth unbidden, Brennan hadn't made a sound, hadn't made a move. She lived in a dreamlike state, not quite believe that was Booth she was feeling, hard behind her.

His mouth returned to her neck, his lips skimming her skin, stopping just below her ear. She felt his breath on her skin, her goose bumps doubling.

"Tell me a secret, Bones," he whispered.

"What?" Her voice rand out loud and incredulous in the silence of the bedroom.

"Your poem," he reminded her, and she was glad he couldn't see her blush. "I want to know all of your secrets." He could feel her stiffen, but he refused to loosen his hold. He wouldn't let her run. Not now.

"I told you. I don't have any secrets."

"Everyone has secrets."

"Fine. Then you tell me one."

"I asked you first."

"And I refuse to answer."

Booth sighed, but wasn't really upset. A quick acquiescence from his Bones would take the fun out of their relationship. "Okay. I can't sleep in an unmade bed. The sheets have to be neat before I get in."

"That's not a secret, that's fastidiousness," Brennan countered.

"But it's something you didn't know," he insisted. "Your turn."

She thought for a moment. "I don't like thongs."

"What?" Booth chuckled.

"Angela is always trying to get me to wear them, and I've tried several styles, but I just think they're uncomfortable. I'd rather go without underwear."

"I'd rather you go without underwear, too."

Brennan opened her mouth to reply, but was distracted by Booth's hand, which was inching further down her stomach. The tips of his fingers dipped below the waist of her pajamas and she inhaled sharply. She felt delirious with lust. And yet it was like Booth was the first man to have ever touched her. A part of her felt she should stop him, but that part grew smaller and smaller with each passing second. It was Booth, after all: her partner, her friend. His lips ran along the fluttering vein in her neck, his tongue darting out to feel the pulse beneath her skin. She bit her lower lip to keep herself from losing all control of her senses.

It was _Booth_. The man she had wanted… quite possibly from the first moment she saw him. He initially infuriated her, yes, but she'd been attracted to him even then. And now, so many years and meaningful moments later, she ached for him with her entire body. She ached for him with her heart.

The intensity of the situation began to overtake her. She breathed in and out slowly, forcing herself to talk. "Tell me another secret."

Booth rested his chin on her shoulders, sensing her tense muscles, and gave in to her unasked question for a reprieve. He slid his hand back to rest on her stomach. "You're not the only one who's written a book."

"You wrote a book?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

"Yeah. A children's book. It's not published or anything. I wrote it for Parker and he illustrated it."

Brennan shifted so she could look into his eyes. "That is the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

He saw such unabashed wonder and admiration in her eyes he felt himself blushing. "Your turn," he said, attempting to draw the attention off of himself and back to her.

She turned back on her side. "I alphabetize my spice rack."

"And _I'm_ fastidious?"

She elbowed him gently and he retaliated by once again slipping his hand beneath her pajamas, this time teasing the elastic on her underwear.

He heard a swallowed gasp, but received no other response. He knew she wanted him. If she didn't, she would have made him aware of that fact some time ago. And he never would have been so physically brash. Something was holding her back.

Unsure of how to proceed, he withdrew his hand, hugging her to him gently.

After a minute of silence, she spoke softly. "Do you want to hear another secret?" She didn't wait for a response. "I'm scared." She paused for a second before continuing, her speech rapid. "But I don't know why. It's not like I've never done this before."

"We don't have to do anything, Bones." He knew how much it took for her to open herself up like that. The last thing he wanted to do was add to her fear and insecurities. He let his words sink in before he continued. "I think you're scared because you know this is more than sex – more than 'satisfying biological urges' – and you're not sure how to process that. The truth is, I'm scared, too."

"You are?"

"Of course. Making love changes everything, and I can't lose what we already have together. And the truth is…" he paused. "My big secret is I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you."

Her head turned an inch toward him. "Not even Rebecca?"

"Not Rebecca. No one."

"Wow."

"Yeah." He felt years younger getting that out in the open, especially since Brennan was still in his arms. She hadn't run; she hadn't retreated into herself. She…

"Me, neither."

_What?_ He sat bolt-upright and looked down at her, eyes wide. "What?"

She looked mildly amused. "You're not going to make me say it again, are you?"

"You didn't say _it_ in the first place."

"Neither did you."

Booth couldn't have been more surprised if she'd slapped him. He sat there, mouth agape, at the three little words that still went unsaid and yet hung loudly in the room. He was about to speak when Brennan silenced him with a finger pressed gently to his lips.

"Booth, I'm done with words. I don't want you to tell me. I want you to show me."

Just when he thought she couldn't possibly be any sexier. He tossed a quick "thank you" heavenwards for having been given the gift of Temperance Brennan in his life.

He lowered himself slowly, taking his time in bringing his lips to hers, kissing her softly. As she opened her mouth to him, the kiss increased in urgency and only stopped when they were breathless.

Booth kissed his way down her neck, across her collarbone, to her shoulder, where he gently lowered the silk camisole strap. He drew his lips across to the other shoulder and repeated the process, all the while memorizing every minute detail of her skin.

He continued his journey, kissing down her sternum, his hand teasing her nipple through the silky fabric. Her back arched in response and Booth grew harder, realizing that though she was fully clothed, he had never been so turned on in his life.

He kissed her again, exploring her mouth with his tongue as he slid his hands under her top. He could barely tell where the silken fabric stopped and her silken skin began. He straddled her, pulling her toward him as he sat up, and removed her top in one fluid motion.

He kissed her again, crushing her to him, and Brennan felt an overwhelming sense of amazement that he first wanted to hold her, not ogle her. Was this love?

She wrapped her arms around him, running her fingers over the well-defined muscles of his back. He tangled his fingers in her hair, gently tugging her neck back so he could spread kisses across her neck. She kissed his shoulder, his clavicle, his neck, before they both pulled back. Their eyes met, and the intensity in that look stole their breath away. Brennan reached out to cup Booth's cheek, and any lasts doubts or fears scattered like dandelion dust in the wind.

Booth lowered her down on the bed and kissed her nose, eyelids, cheeks. Her hands explored the curve of his spine, the hairs at the back of his neck, the smooth skin behind his ears. Four years in the making, and neither felt the need to rush.

His right palm found her left nipple while he kissed down her bare chest. His tongue mapped the contours of one areola while he gently pinched the other. She groaned and shifted her hips beneath him, coming into brief contact with his hardness. It was his turn to groan, the vibrations tantalizing her as his lips closed over her nipple.

He repeated the process, cupping her other breast as he licked and sucked the sensitive nub. He lifted up slightly and sighed contentedly before raising up on his palms. He looked down at her appreciatively. Her face was lightly flushed, hair tousled around her face, and he swore her lips, though unmoving, called to him to kiss them.

"God, Bones, you're beautiful. Have I told you that before?"

She smiled up at him. "Yes, but not like this. No one has called me beautiful that way – meaning more than superficial beauty."

Booth broke into a large grin. "It appears you have learned to read people, Temperance Brennan. You don't give yourself enough credit."

"You really think so? I think I'm just getting better at reading you."

"So what am I saying?" He gave her his best sexy smile.

She reached up to him with one hand, clutching it around his neck. With the other hand, she quietly reached for her destination, squeezing gently upon finding it.

He jumped. "Jesus, Bones, a little warning here!"

She grinned. "Well, it's what you want. And it's what I want. What I want to know is what it feels like to have you inside of me."

An animalistic noise emerged from deep inside Booth's throat.

His mouth was on hers in no time. She ran her hands down his back and slipped then beneath his boxers so she could squeeze his firm ass.

Booth used his tongue to bring both of Brennan's nipples to full points before descending lower and lower. He circled her belly button, dipped his tongue into the center, and continued his trail southward. He reached the top of the tantalizing pajama pants...

"Wait!"

Booth shot up. "What's wrong?"

Brennan smiled at his concern. "Nothing's wrong. I just want to see you."

"You already saw me," he commented, wryly.

"Not like this," she smirked.

Booth rolled off the bed and stood. He slipped out of his boxers and shrugged nonchalantly. As Brennan's eyes took in every detail, Booth felt a burst of male pride, especially when her eyes widened with lust at the size of his erect penis.

Brennan got out of the bed and stood before him. She placed her hands on his pecks, fingers roaming, tweaking his nipples. She brought her lips to his skin, exploring, tasting. When she reached that spot near his shoulder, she paused. She traced the outline of the scar with her fingers first, then lightly kissed the raised skin.

"Hurt is different as an adult," she said softly, speaking to the wound, not meeting Booth's eyes. "When my parents left, it was terrible: an all-over sense of grief and sadness. But there was always a niggle of hope, because as far as I knew, they were still alive. But with you, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of me. I couldn't breathe. I worked because staring at bones kept me from thinking about you. Kept me breathing." She paused and finally looked up at him to see sadness and sorrow on his face. "As angry as I was for not knowing the truth, I was relieved, because if you were alive, I could breathe. Finally, I was alive, too. And ever since then... ever since then I've wanted you to show me." She pushed both her underwear and pajama pants to the floor in one smooth gesture. "Make love to me."

He placed his hands on her waist, leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips, knowing now was not the time for more words.

She climbed into bed first, Booth close behind. He was surprised when she pushed his shoulder, indicating he should lie down, but he acquiesced. She kissed him passionately, tongues dueling. Brennan ended the kiss to use her lips to kiss her way down his chest, followed by the fine hair that led to her goal.

She gently wrapped her hand around Booth's cock, feeling it pulse as she slowly stroked the underside. Booth gasped. "You know..." Brennan said, softly, "I think you've earned the belt buckle. I may have to get you one that says 'you have to see it to believe it'." Her brow furrowed. "Though I don't think I want to encourage anyone other than me to do so."

Booth laughed. "So it's not some alpha male positioning thing?"

"This is incontrovertible proof you are meant to be the alpha male. Anthropologically, you'd be the most desirable male and your virility would be fought over by many women."

"Well, that's too bad because you're the only woman I want."

Brennan stopped her ministrations to look at him with wonder and something akin to doubt in her eyes. "You really mean that, don't you?"

He stroked her cheek. "Monogamy happens when you've found the perfect person."

"You think I'm perfect?"

"I think you're perfect for me."

Brennan's smile lit her face and all traces of doubt vanished from her eyes. Never once had she imagined she'd feel such joy by having someone say that to her. Never had she imagined someone would _want _to say that to her. And for the millionth time that night, Booth couldn't believe that he'd found his perfection.

She resumed stroking Booth slowly, his eyes closed in pure ecstasy. Brennan took the opportunity to shift positions, kneeling between his legs. The second she took him into her mouth, he inhaled sharply and exhaled a muttered, "Oh, Bones," with such tenderness it made her core melt. She continued exploring with her tongue, teasing the head and stroking the underside.

Booth felt the tension building in his body, enjoying every move she made. As she used her tongue to circle around his head, he knew, working off of at least five hours of sexual tension, that he was close.

"Oh, God, Bones..." His voice sounded strangled to his own ears.

She could feel him tensing; feel an even greater hardness. She increased her speed further, and took him in as far as she could. She knew he had seconds to go. "Bones... God, I..." Words ceased until the wave passed and he lie, spent, panting heavily. He raised his arms, surprised he had enough energy for even that small movement, and Brennan crawled on top of him. He kissed her deeply, then held her to his chest, loving the weight of her on him, loving the feel of her bare skin aligning with his. He kissed the top of her head, wanting to say something, anything, but still unable to catch his breath.

Brennan felt his heart pounding rapidly beneath her and chuckled. "I didn't wear you out, did I?"

"I'll respond to that as soon as I'm done having this heart attack."

Her laugh caught in her throat as Booth suddenly flipped her over, effectively pinning her beneath him. "Don't give up on me yet," he smirked. She snaked her arms around his waist, pulling him on top of her, a thousand sensations dancing across her skin. She loved the warmth, the heaviness of him and felt she could sleep there, cocooned forever.

Raising himself up on his forearms, Booth nibbled her chin, kissed her nose, darted his tongue into the hollow of her neck. Her hips flicked upward and she was rewarded with semi-hardness pushing back. The man had stamina ­– that was certain.

He drew back, their eyes connecting before he brought his lips down to hers. There were no pretenses as their tongues immediately began exploring. Booth moaned into her mouth as Brennan gave a quick tug on his tongue. He nibbled on her lower lip, then ran his tongue along the area as a calming salve.

She groaned, from deep within, as he ventured down her body. He used his tongue to draw concentric circles around her nipples, causing her to writhe beneath him until he reached the target. He sucked the nub, then nibbled lightly, and she gasped, again thrusting upward. He repeated the process on the other breast, her agitation increasing. She lifted her hips off the bed, attempting to gain some friction against him. Just as she seemed to gain ground, he stymied her release by rising up so he could shift further downward.

Her groan this time was not in pleasure but in frustration as Booth very slowly trailed kisses across her abdomen. He hadn't intended to tease her but it was irresistible. It was a power struggle that he had to win.

He circled her belly button and moved lower. He could smell her desire and it was intoxicating. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lose. He kissed to the tip of her pubic bone, stopping just short of the curly tendrils that ran in a neat strip down the middle of her sex. The frustrated near-roar from her rocked him to his core. It took all of his willpower not to climb on top of her and thrust for all he was worth.

As he ventured further downward, he hovered over her. He lay on the bed, wrapping his arms around the tops of her thighs, pulling her tantalizingly close. He turned his head slightly and kissed the inside of her thigh just inches from where he longed to be and that finally broke her.

"Booth! Damn it!" she yelled. "Now. I need you now."

Ah, victory. Now for him; soon for her.

He brought himself millimeters from her, and he could feel the heat radiating from her. He explored her folds as she sighed contentedly, her hands winding their way through his hair. She bucked against him, moaning loudly. Her walls twitched against him and he knew she had to be close. He focused his attention on her bundle of nerves, flicking it with his tongue. She withdrew her hands from his hair to clutch wildly at the sheets. A strangled cry erupted from her as her walls spasmed as she came. As she came down from her orgasm, drawing large, gasping breaths, he dragged his teeth across the sensitive nub quickly inserting his fingers into her, pressing upward. She immediately came again, crying out, "Oh, God!" Booth was shocked by the ferocity of her second orgasm, her slick walls clamping down against him.

When she finally relaxed, he placed a sweet kiss on the inside of each thigh before climbing up to lay beside her. She was still breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling at increased speed. He watched her with a smug grin on his face, her glassy expression failing to notice. As she caught her breath, she blinked in rapid succession as if coming back from a faraway place.

"I… I…" she stammered. "How did you _do_ that?"

Booth chuckled. "One of those things I read about but never tried."

She turned to face him, a curious expression on her face. "Feel free to read more and try it all out on me." She exhaled slowly. "No one… I've never… That was…"

"Wow. Temperance Brennan is speechless? Tell me there's some sort of award for that."

She rolled on top of him, straddling his waist, his fully-erect hardness nearly touching her core. Nearly. "Oh, I can think of an award for sexing me speechless."

"Sexing you speechless? I like that," Booth interrupted.

Brennan smiled. "I figure I can at least return the favor."

She leaned down and kissed him, slow and seductive, tasting herself on his tongue. She reached between them and took hold of him, positioning it at her entrance. She pulled back from him, and lowered herself until she engulfed him fully. She gasped at the sensation of having him inside of her and nearly came from how perfectly they fit.

Their eyes met and she could see Booth felt exactly what she did. "Is this…" she began, softly, feeling almost shy, "Is this what it means when people say they're made for each other?"

Booth smiled, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "I think so, in part. You also have to fit here." He lowered his hand to her quick-beating heart.

She placed a hand over his heart as she began to slowly raise herself, reveling in the feel of every inch of him. Booth met her movements with thrusts of his own and they settled into an easy rhythm, their pace increasing in tandem. She closed her eyes and concentrated only on the moment.

He seemed to grow harder within her, feeling every minute detail of her core. He felt himself growing closer toward orgasm and studied her face, sensing she was close as well. Her eyes popped open, revealing a dusky blue he'd never witnessed before. Her entire self seemed to live in those eyes and as her eyes met his, he knew she was giving herself over to him. He wrapped his arm around her neck and brought her to him, kissing her deeply, neither ceasing in their momentum.

The new position brought increased friction to her already sensitive core and she drew back from the kiss, gasping at the sensation. She tightened her muscles around him and it was his turn to gasp as he murmured a throaty, "Oh, Bones…"

Their pace reached a feverish pitch. He wrapped his arms around her, wanting as much of her to be touching him as possible all the while keeping his eyes locked on hers.

"Oh… I…" she panted, feeling sparks warming her from the inside out.

She closed her eyes but Booth wouldn't have it. "Bones," he whispered. Her eyes flew open, nearly manic with desire. "Come for me."

It was like an explosion went off inside her, sending fireworks to every nerve ending. She clamped down around him, consuming him, and he came with a ferocity which he had never experienced before.

They quaked together, forming a bond that made their already firm relationship unbreakable.

She collapsed atop him, their bodies slick with sweat, both breathing heavily.

After minutes of silence, their hearts began to calm and oxygen found its way back to the other seemingly less important parts of their bodies.

"I think we proved it," she said, drawing Booth out of a sleeplike stupor.

"Proved what?"

"You really can break the laws of physics."

* * *

Those words: kaslapus (thank you, Chelsea Handler) for the girls, and boing boing for the boys. Hee! I just wish there were better choices! Am I the only one who feels this way???

And you know me, folks. I'm not even venturing a guess as to when the next chapter will be posted, but I cannot express how much I appreciate your patience! My readers are the BEST!


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